Avalon's Memory
by FantasyEaterGal
Summary: [Post HBP, AU] The war is raging and Draco goes back to Hogwarts for his last year thinking he'll just try and keep a low profile. Unfortunately, something's up with Ginny Weasley and he soon suspects that it has something to do with him. The time for life-changing choices has come for the Malfoy heir. [DxG] [Read & Review]
1. Prologue

[Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. All of Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rollings. Also, later on, some of you may recognise some of elements from Marion Zimmer Bradley's _Avalon_ series.]

[A/N: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for the unavoidable mistakes I'll make. Incidentally, I'm looking for a beta reader for this fiction. If someone is interested, just PM me!

About this story: This prologue is written in Ginny's POV, but the rest of it will be Draco's POV. My fiction is written to respect the series up until the end of HBP but becomes a AU from there.]

**Prologue**

"Ginny! What are you doing? Everybody is already at the clearing. Are you coming?" yelled Pavarti from the outside of the shack. She was stomping her foot on the floor, loudly enough to make her point.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm coming!" came a voice from inside.

Ginevra came out of their sleeping quarters hastily. Trying to simultaneously put on her coat and shoe, she lost her balance. Fortunately, she managed stay on her feet, although inelegantly, by grabbing the doorframe to steady herself. Pavarti burst out laughing.

"Alright, Gin, we're not in that much of a hurry!"

The red head rolled her eyes but laughed all the same.

"I'm ready anyway. Let's go!" She grabbed the older girl by the hand and led her through a dark, narrow footpath.

Before long, they arrived at the young witches' gathering, surrounded by the dense coniferous forest. All the campers were already sitting around an enormous bonfire, sharing jokes and sweets. Their shadows danced joyfully against the forest's obscurity. With happy anticipation about the night to come, the young Weasley took in the sight of that joyous group, smiling.

She had been sceptical about the whole camp idea when her mother had first proposed it. With the war raging in the wizarding world and the recent death of Dumbledore it had seemed like a bad idea to send her in Canada. However, Molly had insisted that she go. Ginevra's mother had argued that Avalon's Memory camp for witches was probably far safer than Great Britain at the moment. The wizard community was so small here that the possibility of an attack was highly improbable. Molly had also explained that going to the camp was a tradition of sort for the Prewett's women. At the time, Ginny had thought that her mom had made that up to convince her. Thus, she had been surprised when the older camp counsellors had asked about Molly's wellbeing.

Avalon's Memory was nothing like what Ginny had expected a summer camp would be. It welcomed witches from 11 to 17 years old but did not divide the campers by ages. Older girls were encourage to share their knowledge with the younger. In her first week, she had learned that absolutely all the camp counsellors had been campers in their youth. When she had asked Raven, one of the oldest counsellors, if it was some kind of prerequisite, the old woman had responded "Something like that" with an enigmatic smile. Everything they did revolved around plants and animals. Ginny was learning the language of earth, rain and wind. She was learning to relate to creature with fur, feather or scales. She'd always had a facility for getting in tune with her surroundings but now it was getting to the point where she felt like she was having a conversation with the forest.

At 16 and as a first timer, Ginny was a curiosity at the camp. Most of the girls had spent their summers there since they were 11 or 12. Pavarti had been spending her summers in Canada since she was 12. At some point, Ginny had wondered about Padma absence. Questioned about her twin sister, Pavarti had simply stated, smiling, that Padma wasn't camper material. Ginny had notice that every time she got a little inquisitive nobody really gave her a straight answer. The vague answers she did get were always given with that enigmatic smile.

However, what the small redhead found the most singular about Avalon's Memory was its nearly mystical atmosphere. She couldn't put her finger on what gave the camp this aura, but, to tell the truth, Ginny didn't really care about the why's of it. All that mattered was that relieving sense of peace she felt here. The constant contact with nature soothed her and the instant connection she'd felt with counsellors and campers had made her feel at home, but more importantly she'd felt safe. And the gods knew what felling safe was worth these days. As much as she missed her family, she seriously considered the possibility of staying here instead of going back to school. Surely, there was a way for her to keep that peaceful haven… She didn't want to go back. What was left for her back home? Would they even be allowed to go back to Hogwarts? What if she was stuck home while Harry, Ron and Hermione were gone chasing Horcruxes? They did everything they could to keep their plans from her but she knew…

That thought brought back the memory of Albus Dumbledore's funeral. Thinking of that day always made her both sad and angry. She'd been very angry for a while. She was angry at the world for that violence and the death of most extraordinary wizard of his time. She was angry at herself for the naivety she had still held at the time. Dumbledore had always looked larger than life, and now he was dead. She was also angry at Harry for not believing in her. He'd broke up with her arguing that he wanted to protect her. She'd tried to take it in stride, to understand but… she simply couldn't. That was so incredibly condescending to her. When they'd got together after all those years she'd thought that Harry could finally see her for who she was but he obviously couldn't. She was not some delicate flower to be put on a shelf so the wind wouldn't knock her out. Moreover, to her, a couple was supposed to be a team. You were supposed to be able to count on each other to get through the bad stuff.

She pushed that sad thought aside and let Pavarti pull her toward Karen, their spitfire Canadian friend, who was currently waving at them.

Pavarti had presented Karen to Ginny two weeks ago. It was simply impossible not to like Karen. The girl seems to exude happiness in waves. She was 17 and would become a camp counsellor the next year.

"Hey! If it isn't my favourite British duo!" she welcomed them warmly "I've been waiting forever!"

Letting herself fall beside Karen, Pavarti sighed theatrically.

"What do you think? I _too_ was waiting for that daydreamer here! I swear! If it wasn't for me, that young lady would still be lost in her thoughts somewhere in the forest".

Ginny rolled her eyes but did not deny it.

"I do feel a bit funny today. Not exactly sleepy, but… I don't know. I hope I'm not coming down with something."

Earlier, she'd gone in the woods to pick some wild herbs. Wrapped in the stillness of the forest, she'd been taken with a strange dizziness. The two older girls shared a look. It was Karen who regained her composure first.

"Anyway! Here, take those marshmallows before I eat them all myself!"

The next three hours were filled with laughter and quite enough sweets for several lifetimes. Midnight was at the door when Ginny finally felt tiredness wash over her. With a content sigh, she let herself fall on her back and look at the night sky. It was magnificent… all those stars. Feeling a bit dizzy from looking at that never-ending sight, she sat again. Some campers had started to play drums, improvising an enticing rhythm, while others got up and danced around. The young Wesley smiled, thinking she would have joined them hadn't she felt so drained.

Lazily, Ginevra settled her gaze on the fire. Its flames were dancing furiously before her eyes like carmine fingers trying to reach the stars. A tired smile upon her face, she reflected on the flames being the same colour has her hair. Gradually, Ginny felt the pace of her heart slowing down and her breath deepening. Suddenly, the camper's laughter sounded distant, as if they were coming from behind a veil. And the flames filled her whole vision. The world around her started to whirl, fast reaching a maddening speed.

_I will fall_, she thought before remembering she was already sitting on the ground.

She closed her eyes in hope that her head would stop spinning. When she opened them again, the fire and her friends had disappeared. The only thing that still linked Ginny to reality was the drums. She couldn't hear them, but she felt the beat through her chest.

All of a sudden, the emptiness of Ginny's view was overloaded with visions, too fast for her to grasp more than a confusing glimpse. Her heart was beating so hard and fast that it hurt. Her breathing became harsh, her throat was on fire. She was about to faint, she just knew it. But then, just as suddenly as the visions had appeared, they slowed, some of them dawdled enough to make some kind of sense.

A battle. No. Several battles. So many people. Some faces she knew, some didn't. So many deaths. Allies. Enemies. Often hard to draw the line. Harry. Voldemort…

Then a scene came. Two people, a man and a woman. They were from another time, or even another world. Ginevra didn't know. However, she felt like she knew them. A visceral feeling. The woman was tall, dark, beautiful. _Timelessly beautiful_, Ginny thought. Like a painting's beauty that would still be worshiped in thousands of years. The woman walked, her expression tender and serene, toward the man who was waiting for her at the centre of a stone circle. The man was in leather armour, his helmet under his arm. He too was tall, even taller than the woman, although his height was not what Ginny noticed first about him. He was young, so young. No more than 16, hardly more than a child. Yet, his face was worn. So many responsibilities put on those young shoulders. And then the woman met the young man at the circle's middle. Successively, she put her fingers to her forehead, mouth and heart, before taking the last step between them. Lovingly, she laid her hand on his cheek, a soft caress, and the man bended to meet her lips with his.

And the scene disappeared, replaced by another.

This time, Ginny had the clear feeling that what she saw had yet to happen. Strangely, she also had the feeling that she was really _in_ the vision. She was in Diagon Alley and, it seemed, in the middle of a Death Eaters' attack. It was a soundless vision, and therefore it gave her an odd floating feeling. It was completely chaotic. People were screaming. Spells were cast mindlessly. Rage and fear were drawn on everybody's face. Then a man rose from that clutter, tall and commending, shouting orders. And everybody did as they were told, for that man possessed a leader's aura. He had that quality that made even the greatest listen to him. Ginny realised that the man was now looking at her. He came up to her, which made her realize just how tall he was, or rather how small she was in contrast. He took her face between his big hands, looked at her with pleading eyes and fervently whispered "I want you to apparate back home, love, for I can't fight with you here. Go! I promise I'll come back to you. Take care of you both." She couldn't duel on the meaning of his words for very long. He gave her a brief but passionate bruising kiss, turned around and went running into battle.

The vision ended abruptly.

Ginny woke up panting on the clearing's grass. The fire was still there. When she was able to focus again, she realized that she was surrounded by faces. Most of the younger witches were worried, almost scared. As for the older ones, they didn't seem worried at all but more… interested. Some of them even showed half concealed smiles. One of the counsellors gathered the youngest campers to direct them to their respective shacks.

Tired of looking to everybody from her horizontal position, Ginevra decided to sit. Bad decision. Instantly, her vision blackened, and she felt a nauseous wave coming. She barely had time to turn on her side before she lost it. When she came back to her senses again, Pavarti was beside her holding her hair. She waited until she trusted her voice to work, although raucously, before finally asking "What… what happened to me? Am I ill?"

Gwendolyn, a witch in her forties and the Head of Avalon's Memory, came forward and kneeled beside the young woman. She gently took her hand, smiling.

"No, dear. You are not ill at all. What you just experienced… Let's say that you went in a sort of trance."

Hearing those words, Ginny started panicking. The last time she experienced a trance, it was during her first year at Hogwarts. Tom had taken control of her mind and body. He'd made her do dreadful things. Seeing Ginny's reaction, Gwendolyn immediately tried to reassure her with a soothing voice.

"Calm down, Ginevra. I promise it is not dangerous when one learns to control it. So, like I said, you went in a trance, probably due to the hypnotic effect of flames and drums. It happens sometimes. It has allowed you to _See_, to have a vision. Or maybe visions?"

She looked at Ginny inquiringly. The young Weasley nodded silently, so Gwendolyn went on, suddenly very solemn.

"Ginevra Prewett Weasley, it is time for you to _know_, it is time for you to be initiated …"

[A/N: Well, there you go!]


	2. Chapter 1 - Slytherin's Own Trio

[Disclaimer: ]

**Chapter 1 – Slytherin's Own Trio**

A young man was comfortably settled on the backseat of an expensive-looking black car, alone. With a seemingly bored expression, he observed people wandering on the London's sidewalks. In truth, he liked to scrutinize people. It was fascinating, but above all it was useful, for to know about one's behaviour is to have power over one. Obviously, he would never do so in the open. Such thing would not be proper. Thus he waited occasions such as the current one: being conveniently hidden behind the car's blackened glass. All the family's cars had tinted glasses and for a very good reason: the Malfoys never put on a show. Well, except of course when it served a purpose…

"We are almost arrived, Mister Malfoy" came their old chauffeur's voice from the driver seat.

Draco acknowledged the old man with a brief nod. A moment later, the car was parked before King's Cross' front door, and the chauffeur walked around to open the door for his young master. Draco exited the dark vehicle, straightening his clothes while his employee took care of his luggage. When every thing was settled on a trolley, they entered the station.

Naturally, a 17 years old, richly clothed young man with a servant following him around could hardly go unnoticed, so people were staring. However, Draco had gotten used to the reaction long ago. It was not like he was about to change is way of life to fit in with a bunch of Muggles, now was it?

_They are so... helpless. How they manage to survive and multiply so effectively is above my comprehension!_ he thought, observing them discreetly.

Then his eyes fell upon a tiny shrivelled woman battling, and failing, to keep all her luggage on her trolley. The most logic-defying thing resulted from this observation: Draco Malfoy felt slightly ashamed. Somewhat startled by this unexpected sentiment, the young Malfoy turned around to face the man who was currently driving his own luggage.

"That will be all, Lenus. I will take care of the trolley from here", he stated.

The old wizard looked shocked.

"I-I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"Lenus, I know for a fact that you are not deaf yet. You heard me perfectly well. Unless you think I am not skilled enough to push a stupid trolley. Do you think I am unable to manage a trolley, Lenus?" He asked, with obvious irony.

Quite taken aback by his young master's strange behaviour, the old chauffeur stuttered.

"O-of course not, Sir! I would never think such extravagant nonsense. B-but are you sure you don't want me to handle such trivial matter, Sir?" Lenus seemed utterly perplex.

Draco sighed loudly.

"I fail to see why I should feel compelled to give you any justification for my decisions."

"Oh, you should not, Sir! I didn't mean to discuss your decision. Here is your luggage. We will be seeing you on Christmas' holydays. I wish you a nice trip, Mr Malfoy." And he was gone

The young Malfoy took hold of his trolley and drove it toward the pedestrian bridge across the tracks before heading between the platforms 9 and 10. Once he was assured no one was looking, he nonchalantly leaned on the wall, instantly finding himself on the platform 9¾. He looked at the platform and groaned. It was crowded.

_We should have left sooner._ _I hate it when it is so packed_, he whined inwardly.

Sighing heavily, he entered that maze of excited teenagers, impatient young siblings and anxious parents. Still, he managed to open himself a path through the crowd. It took him 15 minutes and some colourful curses to reach the train and hoist his trunk in. Now, all that was left to do was to find his accomplices and friends, Blaise Zambini and Pansy Parkinson. He had no doubt _they_ had arrived on time to avoid the annual King's Cross' riot. As he would probably have to open half of the train's compartments to find them, so he started right away.

The first box he peeked in was filled with a group of small 2nd or 3rd year, Hufflepuffs from the colour of their uniform. The kids looked up to see who had just interrupted their conversation. Their faces changed when they recognized the intruder. They suddenly wore more than a hint of nervousness. In fact, their fear was almost palpable. Draco new that very few people knew what really transpired on the night of Dumbledore's death. To be allowed back at Hogwarts, Draco had had to go through an extensive Auror interrogation, but the result of this interrogation had been kept from the public. He had no doubt their imagination was going wild. Draco could almost hear them think. They were wondering what the Malfoy heir was up to, and if they were going to be on the wrong end of it. The tall Slytherin fought a grin. He did love to make an impression when he entered a room, he could at least admit that to himself. Playing the part, he raised an eyebrow and threw them a last piercing gaze before letting the youngsters to their speculations about his demeanour.

It was invariable. Draco inspired three distinct reactions from people he met. They either felt fear, anger or envy, although a mix of two or even the three of them was not unheard of. The only exception was his family, in which he included Blaise and Pancy. To be honest, he should add desire to the list, even if it was mostly mixed with fear. His "dark wizard" aura seemed to attract a respectable number of the fair sex, all of them Slytherins. He had no illusions, though. He knew many were after his money, some of them were pushed by their parents to seek his attention despite last year debacle. _Money talks_, Draco thought. _And a lot of money sings and dances!_

That being said, his reasonable success with girls was nothing compared to Blaise. He was quite the playboy epitome and the biggest flirt he'd ever seen. Thanks to his muscular beater's physique, raven hair and baby blue eyes, that guy had the entire Hogwarts' female population batting their eyelashes at him in the corridors. He dated every Houses' girls alike. Had he still been alive, Dumbledore would have been proud. And Zambini loved every minute of it. The competition didn't bother Draco. He didn't enjoy the attention as much as his friend anyway.

Draco's friendship with the black haired Slytherin didn't go that far back. They had started to seriously hang out together back in 4th grade. Of course, as two heirs of wealthy pure-blooded families, their parents had made sure they met at an early age, so they had shared a fair amount of birthday parties before entering Hogwarts. However, in Draco's case, the "best friend" position was already filled.

Pansy and he had known each other for as far as Draco's memories went. It had been a natural friendship, so to speak, for their mothers were childhood friends. Up to the age of 11, they had shared games, toys, wounds, laughs, tears… everything. Narcissa couldn't give birth anymore. Her son had been long to come. After his birth, the medwizards had announced his parents they could not conceive again. Consequently, the both of them had become exceptionally protective and just as exceptionally demanding of their only child.

With no sibling to hang out with, the little girl who was running around at Malfoy Manor so often became a sister to him. Things had slightly changed when they both entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Pansy had found herself at the head of a gang of Slytherin girls, and Draco who was rather small for his age at the time did as any smart 11 boy would do: he framed himself with goons. So it was not just the two of them anymore. At least until they finally grew out of their respective "phase" or, in Draco's case, simply grew some height eliminating the necessity of bodyguards. Pansy was becoming an outstanding young woman, but then again nothing less was expected from her. If you asked Draco, he would say she was beautiful. And if you asked why he had never been tempted, he would stare you down until you looked away in shame. They had been friends for so long that it would feel like incest. Pansy was exceptionally smart, but also vindictive and short-tempered, especially when it came to Blaise. The boy seemed to think it was highly amusing to make her lose her nerves. And to think those two had been going out. Alright, it had only last a week before she tried to kill him but still… that had been one hell of a week!

Draco kept searching for his friends and, on his way, encountered the one and only Rachel Lindley, 6th year and Slytherin to booth. Now, that was a body. Tall and willowy frame, perfect pale skin and dark hair, and, not to forget, legs that went forever. They had shared a brief _affair_ the preceding year. At the time, he was trying his best to keep up appearances while struggling to carry on with Voldemort orders. Rachel was the worst kind of opportunist but the best kind of distraction. He served her his best charmingly-wicked side smile. She didn't fail to answer with a suggestive wave of eyebrow. Draco couldn't help but smile to himself while he kept walking. It looked like he wouldn't have to worry about lonely nights this year.

His good mood decreased a bit after the train went in motion and he opened an nth compartment. However, passing the door, his eyes fell upon an exquisite vision. On the floor of the box, her back to him, a girl was on all four, giving the young man a nice perspective on one of the cutest little butt he had seem in a long time. She was currently digging frenetically in a trunk, oblivious to his presence. He tilted his head on a side as if searching a better angle. _Why not have a little fun_ he thought, closing the door behind him.

"What a nice view!" he finally declared.

He leaned on the door frame, in his typical nonchalant pose, his arms crossed on his chest. He waited for the girl to jump up, embarrassed, blushing… vulnerable. But the mysterious girl did no such thing. She did jump a little at the sound of his voice, finally aware she was not alone anymore, but after a two-second pause and a "Not in the mood, Malfoy!" she went back to her search. She was ignoring _him_! That was unacceptable.

She suddenly stood up with a small triumphant sound, the object of her search in hand. The girl turned around and finally faced him. She looked a bit startled and embarrassed. But not a "_Draco, you scared me and now I'm all bothered_" kind of embarrassment. It was more in the line of "_Why are you still there?_". That's when Draco finally took in her feature and recognized her. Long red hair, freckled nose, worn out clothes…

"Weasley!"

His exclamation seemed to amuse her! Draco couldn't help but think there was something changed about the youngest Weasley. Not physically. She was still the same small redhead he remembered. Small! That was an understatement. He doubted she even reach his shoulder. Her attitude was what confused him. The girl was known to be just as short-tempered as her brother. In fact, she was also known not to spare her hexes when anybody got in her way. He had his own vivid memory of being on the wrong end of her Bat-Bogey Hex. Nevertheless, she was now calmly settled against the compartment window, looking at the one who had worked for years at making her brother and friends' life miserable, the one who was generally thought to be responsible for Dumbledore's death. And what was she doing? She was looking amused… and slightly bored! Actually, her small, red, heart-shaped mouth wore a side smile that was usually _his_ trademark. It was almost surreal. Moreover, she even mirrored his pose by crossing her arms under her breasts. _I didn't remember her being so well endowed_, he couldn't stop himself from noticing. He slapped himself mentally. He had to think of something. _Fast_.

"So… Ginny… the famous trio has abandoned you? The boy-who-refuses-to-shut-up-and-die got tired of hearing you sing his praises again and again? Sad, really." He sarcastically sympathized.

Raising a dark eyebrow, she rolled her eyes.

"If you really want to know… Draco… they didn't _abandoned_ me. It's my guzzler of a brother who couldn't wait for the tea trolley to pass by. And as the three of them hardly go to the loo without one another, they all went after the trolley, so the poor Ron wouldn't die of starvation." That last bit was said with a humourless laugh. But a wicked smile soon crossed her face. "As for the part about my singing of Harry's praises… well… if I didn't know better, I'd say you were _jealous_."

"What?!" the young man yelled.

At that moment, the door opened, revealing an impatient Blaise Zambini.

"Ah! Here you are, Dray! Pansy was starting to worry, so I went to search for you. You know how she can get, saying nonsense like that she will go crazy if she pass any more time alone with me. Hey! You won't guest who I saw on…" And then he took in the presence of a third person. The dark-haired Slytherin's sixth sense, the flirt, went on automatic mode. "Well, well, well… Hello there, beautiful."

"Just a minute, Blaise." Draco cut in and turned to face the small redhead again. "I want it to be clear. I am not, nor will I ever be, jealous of Harry bloody Potter! Understood, you twat?"

The little bugger's grin widened.

"Now, Draco _dear_, keep talking to me in such a sweet way and I'll start to think you're flirting with me. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"I am most certainly not flirting with the likes of you!" He spat, grabbing his smiling friend's arm on is way out.

Blaise was dragged through the door, but not before he could add "But I am!"

And they heard her laughter until they left the wagon.

They both made their way through the train corridor in silence. Draco was in a very foul mood. He had totally lost his nerve back there, something highly uncommon coming from the Malfoy heir. There was something about the little vixen that was changed. She was more… _something_. Something that got under his skin for some reason. She was troubling him, and he didn't understand why. And what he didn't understand, he didn't like.

Blaise finally motioned Draco to a compartment. Draco slammed the door close, making Pansy jump by doing so, before slumping in a seat. The brunette shot Blaise an inquisitive look but her housemate simply humph-ed and raised his shoulders in response. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Is one of you going to explain what just happened?" She asked when she realized they were not going to talk.

"What happened? A petite redhead, that's what happened to our poor _lord_ Malfoy here. He doesn't seem to be able to deal with his attraction to the youngest Weasley."

"You went completely nutter Blaise if you think I would be attracted to a _Weasley_. I could never be attracted to… to _that_! She is a Goody Two-Shoes Gryffindor for Merlin's sake!"

Pansy studied her childhood friend attentively, and then shared a conniving look with Blaise. Slowly, she shook her head, sighing.

"I see what you mean, Blaise. She got him deep, that's for sure."

Draco couldn't believe his ears. Those two hardly leagued together about anything, and they chose to start now. The day was just getting better and better…

"That's it", he stated "you two are good for a one-way ticket to St. Mungo's. Can you tell me what could _possibly_ be attractive in any Weasley?"

To the blond Slytherin's surprise, it was Pansy who responded.

"I remember Charlie Weasley from the Triwizard Tournament. You know, he had come as a dragon keeper for the first task?" She took a pause, apparently lost in the memory. "Hmmm… those large shoulders, bulky arms and that nice tight little ass…" She sighed exaggeratedly. "And, you know, a man who works with dragons is _so_ sexy."

Draco and Blaise looked at her with equal disbelief.

"What?" She asked defensively. "I am a normal healthy woman with normal healthy needs for fantasies during my lonely nights."

Both boys made a face which made her laugh.

"Come on, Pansy!" Blaise argued. "You could have done better than Charlie Weasley. You just had to look at what was in front you." He added with a smile.

She faked to consider it but then said "Sorry Blaise, but Charlie Weasley beats you good on this one. I mean: he is a _man_ and a dragon keeper… You two _boys_ are out of his league." She kept teasing them.

Blaise dismissed her comment with a roll of eyes.

"Anyway, with all that we forgot the issue at hand here." He started. "Our dear Draco who's heart has been taken away by a small redheaded goddess, namely Ginny Weasley." At this, Draco groaned, for he would have preferred they forget about the subject. "You asked us what could possibly be attractive about the little Weasley, right? Well, if you ask me, I'd say you actually found out all by yourself. When I've find you in her compartment, your eyes were virtually scotched to certain of her body parts localized between the shoulders and the waist." The blackhaired wizard gave him a devious smile. Draco could help but responded with one of his own.

Pansy sighed, mumbling "Really!"

"You're one to talk, Miss I-fantasize-about-redheaded-dragon-keepers'-ass!" Draco retorted to his female friend. "Alright, I admit it. I admit I _kind of_ checked her out, but I still state she's absolutely not my type. I prefer my girls more... classy. I like my women tall, slim, leggy, distinguished"

"I hear you, mate, but the portrait you make… it all sounds so boring. I dare say I never understood what you liked about those icicles you go out with. Now, let me explain something to you, my dear friend" started Blaise.

The Slytherin beater got closer to his friend and put an arm around his shoulders, a lot like a father who is about to explain the _mysteries of life_ to his son.

"Dear lords! He's going at it again", groaned Pansy.

Blaise ignored her comment. He took his best teacher's tone.

"You see, Dray, women, in all their diversity, are nature's masterpieces! And, in my opinion, by restraining yourself to a single landscape, you deprive yourself of a lot of beauty. For example, you seem to have a thing for arctic desert, which, I'm sure, must have some kind of charm. However, if I were you, I'd start to consider what… hum… the grandiose mountainous regions and vast green hills could do for me". Saying that last part, he traced feminine curves in the air.

Draco didn't find anything to respond for a moment. Then he let out a frustration growl.

"You know what? I clearly said _she_ was not my type. So I can't see why we're still having this conversation."

Blaise stayed silent a second.

"Good…" he finally said, cracking a broad smile. "That means she's all mine to keep!"

"No!" shouted Draco before even thinking.

"No?" questioned two very amused Slytherins.

Draco had to think fast.

"I mean, you forget about Master Weasel. He'll never let any Slytherin playboy near his precious little sister without severe consequences. He is not all that strong, but with his height, he got some leverage."

_There_, Draco thought, _that out to close the issue_.

"I see… well… To tell you the truth, I think it's worth some bruises. Especially if she is up to play nurse afterward, and she is bonded to, right? You said it yourself: she is a Goodie Two-Shoes Gryffindor!" He paused a second, seemingly lost in his thought, "Yes, I think Miss Weasley is going to be the lucky girl who will be the first to have a taste of the well wanted Blaise Zambini this year. She is definitely _my_ type, that's for sure!"

Pansy sneered. "Wouldn't want to contradict you, Blaise, but aren't _all_ the girls _your_ type?"

The boy seemed to think about it before he responded with a smile. "That's very close to the truth, Pansy dearest. But there _is_ something about the Weasley girl. Can't figure what yet, but it's there…"

Draco wanted that conversation to end. "Whatever you say, Zambini." He cut in with a bored tone. "Why don't we just drop the subject in favour of an interesting one?"

Pansy suddenly threw him a piercing gaze, like only she could. When she did that, he felt like she could read right through his mind. "Sure, Dray" her eyes still fixed on his, "Why don't you tell us how the _little discussion_ with your father went?"

Draco looked back at her a moment. "I think I'll take a nap."


	3. Chapter 2 - Welcome back to Hogwarts

**Chapter 2 – Welcome Back to Hogwarts**

When Draco finally came out of his certainly-_not_-sulking mood, he joined his friends in their tale of the past summer. Blaise told them about his dreamlike vacations in his family Antilles' resort where he'd met his mother's soon-to-be 8th husband. Or was it the 9th? Pansy had not been so lucky. Her mother had thought it was time her only daughter starts to acquaint herself more intimately with the wizarding high society. Apparently, war was no reason to neglect one's social circle. Accordingly, Victoria Parkinson had insisted to bring Pansy along at every social occasions: balls, diners, tea and garden parties alike. None too gracefully, the Slytherin girl confessed to her housemates that if she had to say, "Hi, it was so kind of you to invite us" or the likes ever again, she was going to snap.

It was followed by a discussion about the year to come. Blaise had chosen some random easy classes this year. He cared very little about these, except maybe for Herbology. The black haired boy insisted it was only because he liked getting down and dirty but Draco knew Blaise was genuinely fascinated with it. His otherwise lack of interest for scholarly pursuits was due to his already knowing he would take the head of one of the resorts his family owned, preferably somewhere hot and sunny, and, eventually, of the whole Zabini Corporation. For her part, Pansy had virtually loaded her schedule. Her ambition was to work for the Ministry of Magic in the Justice Department, an ambition Draco had no doubt she would fulfil. Ultimately, he wouldn't be surprised if she ended Head of the entire department. Her parents weren't supportive of their daughter in her career choice. Of course, in their world, women rarely had career of their own. They got married and supported their husband's ambitions.

Draco hadn't even expected to come back this year, so he had been at lost when the time to choose his classes had arrived. In the end, he had taken all the basic subjects: Potions, Charms, DADA, Transfiguration and History. As for the future, after what he'd been through, he tried not to think too much about it. As it were, things were not looking up for the Malfoy family.

Once the Hogwarts Express came to a stop, the three Slytherins quickly changed into their robes and got out of the wagon, planning to find an available carriage to the castle. At that point, Pansy thought wise to join her female friends. It had probably something to do with Blaise enumerating the virtues of very small bikinis. So the trio parted. It only took a few minutes for the boys to locate an empty carriage, but just as they were about to climb in the cart, they were called out by a feminine voice.

"Hey! Would you mind if we shared the carriage with you, guys? The rest are already full."

Turning around, Draco saw red. Quite literally. The young Weasley was patiently waiting for their answer, but it wasn't Ginevra who had asked permission. Pavarti Patil (Draco guessed which twin she was by her Gryffindor's outfit) was currently stamping on the ground, hands on her hips.

"So?" she asked, her annoyance at their silence clear in her voice.

Draco was getting ready to throw the impertinent girl a hard-hitting comment, but his dark-haired housemate cut in first.

"My deepest apologies, young ladies! You'll have to forgive us. At the view of two lovely creatures such as yourselves, we went momentarily speechless. Of course, it will be our deepest pleasure to escort you to Hogwarts"

Draco gave his friend an unhappy look that clearly said he owed him for that one. Blaise gracefully ignored the look and helped the girls in the carriage. Jumping in, the blond Slytherin noted with displeasure that Zabini was already sitting next the Patil twin which meant that he had to share seat with the freckled pixie. Making sure his sullen mood was plain to see, he took place as far as possible of the youngest Weasley. For some mysterious reason, it seems that he couldn't think clearly while being physically near her. _Bloody hormones!_ He thought to himself. The carriage went it motion.

Blaise turned himself toward the brunette next to him, decided to break the uneasy silence.

"So, Patil, how was your summer?"

Then, Draco noted that the Gryffindors shared a brief look. So brief in fact, that had he been less sharp-eyed, he wouldn't have notice. _What was that about?_ He wondered.

Patil cleared her throat.

"I'd say it was a… learning experience to say the least. Yes. Very enlightening in fact." A soft smile played on her lips.

Misreading the girl's response, Blaise's face wore a carnal look.

"Learning experience, really?" And he slowly closed the distance between them, waving his eyebrows suggestively.

Both girls laughed at his antics.

"Not that kind of "learning", you pervert!" She hit him on the chest. Motioning to the other girl, Pavarti explained. "Ginny and I spend our summer at a witches' camp in Canada. A camp for gilrs _exclusively_! So it would have been impossible to _instruct_ ourselves in the way you implied we did."

Blaise's smile grew to a grin. Then he took an overdramatic contrite look.

"Oh, that's too bad, really. But fortunately, now that you came back to civilisation, you won't have any trouble finding someone to fulfil all your… unattended needs."

"In truth, Zabini, I didn't miss the attention all that much. Not to hear stuff like '_Wow! What a nice pair of… huh… eyes!_' for three months was kind of refreshing."

The flirty Slytherin was now almost leaning over the dark-haired Gryffindor, but she didn't seem to mind.

"It's a shame that you would have to endure such behaviour. But please, do not spread your judgment over all menfolk. There are still men who would treat you like the lady you are and praise you as you should be."

Draco had to admit his friend had been bless with a very special gift when it comes to the gentle sex. He watched him play his skill with a mix of annoyance and amusement. Funnily, Patil looked barely touched by the legendary Zabini charm. The girl gave Blaise an innocent gaze that was fooling no one.

"Is that so? And who would those men be?" She asked.

"Well… you can count me as one of those worthy males." Then he turned to the other seat's occupants, serving an irritating smile to Draco. "And that git over there can be a perfect gentleman when he wants to be." He winked at Ginny.

Draco rolled his eyes thinking "_Please, Blaise, keep me out of your little game_."

"Sorry, Blaise, but I doubt you could find a compliment that really hits home to me. I have an _identical_ twin. That kind of dilutes any compliment because it could just as well be served to her. Doesn't really make one feel special, you know?"

"I don't find that you and your sister are that much alike." Patil looked sceptical. "I really don't!" He insisted. "Like most of the Ravenclaws, your sister often wears a snobbish look. Also, you don't bear yourselves alike; you don't have the same posture, or the same walk. Padma always looks like she has a broomstick stock up her… well, you know. You, on the other hand, walk like a feline. So graceful and feminine. I'd bet you are an amazing dancer."

She considered him for a minute, playing dreamily with a dark strip of hair like she was deep in thought.

Keeping her eyes to his face, she said "You and I. First Hogsmeade weekend. It's a date."

Blaise smiled broadly.

"As the lady wishes." And he kissed her knuckles.

Draco shook his head, incredulous.

"Really!" he sighted at the same time than the girl next to him. Their eyes met for a second, and Draco found that it was almost unbearable to stand this dark brown stare. He turned his gaze to the window. What was it about her that made him feel like that?

For a couple of minutes, they stayed silent, distractedly listening to the shameless flirtatious behaviour their friends were displaying on the other seat. Draco felt restless for some reason, so he broke the silence. A little word fight with a Weasley seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

"So, Weasley, happy to learn your parents could find the galleons to send you camping… that's how they call sleeping in dirt, right? Camping? But I guess you're used to it by now."

He had opted for the direct attack. Comments about the Weasley's finances had become one of his classics. Moreover, it worked wonderfully when the objective was to make one of them bluster. A hot tempered bunch, the Weasleys.

For a moment, Draco thought the redhead was about to punch him. _Now, that's the Weasley I remember._ He discreetly grabbed his wand but kept it in his pocket. One's never too cautious with Ginny Weasley. Just when the redness behind the girl's freckles was about to reach a critical point, the Patil twin kicked her friend foot and gave her a warning look. The blond Slytherin felt like he was missing something important. The small Gryffindor took a breath and turned to him.

"If you really want to know, as there are just Ron and I at home now, money isn't that much of a problem anymore. And for your information, we did no camping this summer. True, the camp is in the deep forest, but we didn't sleep in tents or anything that rustic."

Draco was more than a little troubled by her cool façade, although he was rather comforted by her _almost_-bust of anger. He didn't know what to think of her control and calmness. The fact that there was something changed about her and that he should know what kept tickling his mind. He never had any problem standing anybody's stare before. Never. The other way around was more frequent. Well, except for his father's stare… until recently. But her eyes… It was like she could read him somehow. Like, if he didn't pay attention, she would seek all his secrets. A troubling thought for someone as secretive as he was.

Before he knew it, their carriage arrived before the castle's entrance. The girls stepped out of the cart, helped by Blaise. The duo hooked arms and went toward the colossal doors, but not before Pavarti winked at Blaise over her shoulder. The dark-haired young man shook his head, smiling while he watched the sensuous sway of the tallest girl's hips.

"What happened to these Gryffindors?" He asked, more to himself.

Draco grudged. "Don't know. Maybe they fed them something sour at that camp."

His friend laughed.

"I was thinking something more in the line of 'Since when are the Gryffindors allowed to be so sexy!'"

Draco rolled his eyes, but smile all the same. "You really are unbelievable, dear friend."

"What can I say? I'm not called Hogwarts' Ladies Man for nothing! Still, it's rather strange don't you think? Two Gryffindors being civil with Slytherins. They usually are too concerned about the possibility of our evilness rubbing off to hang out with the Snakes. And not any snake. You, of all people! Don't take it wrong, mate, but you're not exactly in the little Griffins' good graces."

Talk about an understatement.

"No offense taken. I've always thought being number one on their to-kill-list was highly flattering."

They went through the doors, and Draco couldn't help but notice there were many students missing. Of course, with Dumbledore's death at the hand of one of the teachers, parents were bonded to reconsider sending their children at Hogwarts. Draco knew exactly what had happen that night. He couldn't forget even if he wanted to.

Surprisingly enough, his role in the event hadn't spread among the students. There were rumours, but then again there had always been rumours about him. Draco had been surprised to learn that the professor Slughorn had insisted that they gave him a chance to finish his schooling. After all, he was no part of the potion master's pet club. But what he had found even more surprising was that his father wanted him to go back. Lucius hadn't explained why. Lucius never explained himself. Better not to ask too much questions when you know he doesn't want to give answers. The joy of being the Malfoy heir!

The two young men entered the Great Hall and spotted Pansy who was currently being courted by Gregory Goyle. She looked like she was about to puke. _Time to save the damsel!_ Draco thought humorously, sharing a smile with Blaise. There was no need to say anything. The second they arrived at the table, the muscle tower slid on the bench to let the 7th year prefect sit. Pansy gave him a grateful sigh. At his first glance around the Slytherin table, Draco knew that most of his housemates had heard at least parts of the last year's drama. A raise of eyebrow sufficed for them to look away. The next weeks promised to be quite interesting.

Then the first year made their entrance in the Great Hall. There weren't even twenty of them. Waiting at the room's centre, the kids looked so scared, Draco noted. But then, these days were scary ones. At that moment, he noticed that something was missing. The Sorting Hat hadn't sung its yearly song. Now, that was unheard of. The Hat was an object of great magic. It had a mind of its own. Who knew what its motives were or even if mere humans could comprehend it.

Everybody seemed confused. You could hear the hall murmuring. But most didn't seem to understand the potential importance of the Sorting Hat muteness. Draco did. He couldn't explain it, but he felt it. A tension. Somehow, it felt like there was a great power waiting, like a giant holding its breath. Even the Headmistress McGonagall couldn't hide her apprehension and a hint of fear. Nevertheless, she invited the first student to be sorted and the sorting began. The tension eased a bit, but didn't disappear. The sorting went on as usual. Comforting.

Draco's gaze swept across the hall and he realized that Slytherins were getting burning looks from the other houses. Well, more than usual, that is. _I guess that with our parentage and the war going on we are judged guilty by association_, the young man thought wryly. The Headmistress cleared her throat, and the hall calmed down.

"Welcome, to every new student, and welcome back, to all known faces. As many of you must have noticed, some of your fellow students are not back among us." The room was dead silent. "Some people thought it would have been wiser to close the school, considering the current… events. However, we felt it was our duty to open our doors to every student who wishes to receive our teaching. Hogwarts has always been a place of knowledge, and knowledge has great significance in times such as this one." She let the crowd a second to digest her words. She pursued her speech on a lighter tone. "Several new items have been forbidden, most of them being Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes's products." She frowned slightly. "You'll find the list on Mr Filch's office door. Also, I remind you that the Forbidden Forest is still _forbidden_, to _any_ students." She threw a sharp look to the Gryffindor table. "I wish you all a good year and I won't take anymore of your time. As a great respected wizard would have said: dig in!" As she finished her speech, a large selection of appetizing dishes appeared on all four tables.

Shaking his head to clear it of the unease he was feeling about this night, he started to help himself with a large portion of fuming stew. As he was about to take his first bit, he realised that Pansy was looking at him with one of her evil-Slytherin smile. Draco had a moment of wondering what his female friend was up to, until it hit him. She had probably seen them getting in the carriage with the Gryffindor girls. _I know that smile_, he thought. Now she possessed serious teasing material on both of them.

"So", she started innocently, "the big bad Slytherin Snakes lured the poor innocent little lions into their dark den. Have eaten them whole yet?" She finally asked grinning.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. Blaise sighed dramatically.

"I wish! But, you know, I'm not all that sure about the _innocent_ part. I don't think I would qualify Pavarti as _innocent_. I swear, had I known that she could be that good a flirt, I'd have gone after her sooner. As for the Weasley girl, now that's something else altogether. She has _virgin_ marked all over her face!"

Draco frowned. At the moment, he had an almost overwhelming urge to defend the girl's honour. This was not only ridiculous, but also completely out of character coming from him. He managed to restrain himself, but barely. However, he couldn't help but search for the petite redhead at the Gryffindor table. When he found her, he was surprise by her expression. She looked very angry. From time to time, she threw a furious look at the head table while mumbling heatedly to Pavarti. The older girl put an arm around her friend, visibly trying to soothe her. _What can she be so anxious about?_


	4. Chapter 3 - Déjà vu

[Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter's universe.]

**Chapter 3 – Déjà vu**

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!"

In response to the cheery call, Draco emitted something that was between a throaty groan and a sigh before he turned over to hide his face under his puffy pillow. The Malfoy heir was so not a morning person. He tried for just a second to forget the world's toughest truth: it was Monday, first day of school. Unfortunately, his roommate and friend (though, at this precise moment, he had the hardest time figuring _why_ Blaise was his friend in the first place) was not going to let him keep his blissful illusion. Before poor Draco could do anything, his merciless friend pulled on the warm duvet, taking it away from him. Draco, in his pyjamas bottom, quivered in the dungeon's coolness.

"Arg! What in the gods name did I do to deserve sharing a room with you?" Draco groaned, his voice still hoarse with sleepiness.

"Just lucky, I guess. And would you stop complaining! You are very lucky indeed that I can manage to pull your sorry ass out of your bed every morning. If it wasn't for me, you would have been late for class for the last six years! So now, _Lord_ Malfoy, you move that cute butt of yours out of that bed and go doll yourself up. It's the first day, you wouldn't want to make a bad impression, would you, Draco _dear_?" Stated Blaise playfully before he gave him back his blanket and returned to his trunk.

"Why do you have to be such a morning person? No, wait, it's worst. You're a _cheerful_ morning person!" accused Draco moodily. Still, he crawled out of bed and finally side-smiled at his dark-haired roommate. "And I'll have you know that I do not need to _doll myself up_. I mean, look at me! I'm already ravishing, and I'm not even trying!" His hand waved at his own body, like it was statement enough.

Blaise snorted, managing to make it elegant, and throw a pillow, not as elegantly, at the pretentious blond Slytherin.

"Shut up, Malfoy! You know, one day, you'll have to admit I am more handsome than you!" responded Blaise, already walking through the door.

Once he was alone, Draco could let himself remember last night's dream. Try to remember, more like. He had that strange feeling you get when you can almost remember a dream, but not quite. Looking at the mess he had made of his bed, he could tell it had been one frenetic dream. Weird, considering he usually was a still-sleeper. He frowned, feeling tired. A whole eight hours of sleep, and he felt like he hadn't slept at all. _Great, just great!_ he thought, getting dressed.

Then he made his way out of the bedroom, into the common room. Again, he realised by the looks he was getting that many of his housemates were better informed than the rest of the student body about last year's events. He felt the tension rise between his shoulder blades. In a matter of seconds, he measured their reactions. Many looked scared, some looked mostly curious. His judgement told him none of them really knew the whole truth. It was in their eyes. Uncertainty. It would be easy to deal with the scared ones. As for the curious, well, that was going to need some serious juggling. Decided not to deal with them before he even had breakfast, he simply hold their gaze, daring them to hold his. It was efficient enough. Only one person held his ground. Theodore Nott.

Draco had known Theo for years. Their parents evolved in the same social circles, which means that they had been introduced as kids, invited over for birthday parties, and such. Moreover, the boy had been on the Quidditch team since last year. It had been a great surprise when the weedy-looking student had tried out. The surprise had been even greater when the blond captain had discovered the agility and strength hidden behind that slim frame. He was an excellent chaser. However, the truth was that Draco didn't really _know_ Theo. He suspected nobody did. Theodore was very much a loner. Not because there was anything wrong with him. In fact, Nott was civil with nearly everyone. For as long as he could remember, Draco had found that there was something about him that simply said _Don't mess with me and I'll return the favour_. He just didn't need to gang with anyone. But here he was, with challenging yet utterly neutral eyes and a sharp intelligence coming through. Right this second, Draco knew he was going to have to walk a very thin edge with this one. With their respective secretiveness, the both of them were too much alike for Draco's peace of mind. _Trusting issues, Draco? Surely not!_

With that in mind, he got out of the Slytherin common room and took the dark stone stairs out of the dungeon. Soon enough, he found himself in the Great Hall, walking toward his friends at the Slytherin table. Pansy looked up at him from her plate, smiling.

"Good morning, Mr. Grumpy! So, tell me. Is it safe to talk to you yet or are we taking a chance to get ourselves avada-kedavra-ed?" she asked good-naturedly.

As a response, she got an elegant raise of eyebrow. Draco sat beside Pansy, facing Blaise, his back to the room.

"Come on, Pansy, let him be. He had a rough night" defended Blaise.

Draco questioned his friend with a look.

"You turned and turned again in your bed all night, groaning and whining. I don't know what you were dreaming about, but man! That must have been one hell of a dream" He waved his eyebrows suggestively, smiling wickedly. Then he took a fake outraged look. "As a matter of fact, _I_ should be the grumpy one this morning. I slept only half of the night because of all your racket, while you were visibly having some mind-blowing wet dream. This is so very unfair! So now… mind to share the dirty details?" He grinned broadly.

Draco sighed.

"I wish I could, really. But I can't remember anything about that dream. Not a single detail. All I know is that I woke up still tired and having a strange feeling about it. And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I seriously doubt there was anything erotic about that dream." He gave the other boy a knowing look. "I know that because usually I don't have any problem remembering those."

The two friends shared a laugh that was all too masculine. Suddenly, Blaise looked behind Draco, smiling a little dreamily.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"An enchanting vision, that's what it is"

Pansy and Draco looked around to find what their friend was so enthralled with. _Probably something to do with a girl or another_, Draco thought. The boy was hopeless. He was not far from the truth. Making their way to the Gryffindor table, Pavarti Patil and Ginevra Weasley had just entered the Great Hall. The girls were laughing at some joke that had probably occurred outside the hall.

Draco fixed his gaze on the smallest girl. She was still smiling broadly. It felt so familiar somehow. Intimately familiar. A feeling of déjà vu, and yet not. This was so frustrating. It was there, the same strange feeling that had come with his dream. He could touch the memory with the tip of his finger but was unable to grab it. Reluctantly, he took away his eyes from the petite redhead.

Facing Blaise again, Draco realise the other boy was still looking hungrily behind him. He frowned, suspicious. For some unknown reason, he didn't like his friend looking at Ginny like she was a delicious cake he'd like to bite into.

"Blaise, does your _vision_ include Pavarti or Ginny?" he finally asked.

The boy smiled slowly. "Hmmm… both".

The sound of an altercation at the opposite extremity of the table prevented him of further comment. A small girl who Draco remembered had been sorted in their house the night before was on the floor. She had clearly been pushed and was on the edge of tears. Graham Pritchard, a fourth year Slytherin, towered over her, speaking cruelly.

"You'll have to learn you can't just sit anywhere, stupid! In Slytherin, we respect hierarchy. You, girlie, are at the very bottom of it. So now, you can go sit with the other first year twits!" And he sat in the place the young girl had been occupying earlier.

While the boy was talking, Draco had risen from his seat and gone toward the little morning drama, his eyebrows in a deep frown. Once behind the bully, he loudly cleared his throat, making the younger boy look around and up at him.

"Tell me what just happened, Pritchard" he simply required, arms crossed over his chest.

"It's just…" Graham started.

"You stand when you're talking to me!" his voice quiet but stern.

Draco's height was only a little over average and he wasn't particularly broad shouldered but the boy did as he was told by the seventh year prefect without being asked twice. However, there was still that stubborn look to him. _Ah, to be young again!_

"Simple. This is my seat and that girl…" he pointed at her on floor "… was sitting on it. Among the Slytherin house, we have to earn our place. I was merely teaching her just that"

Draco kept a neutral face.

"Really?" he started on a calm tone. "What about you? Did you earn your place?"

"Of course!"

"I see. Clearly, to bully, insult and scare an eleven-year-old girl are considered actions worthy of respect, right?"

For a second, Graham looked a little embarrassed. But only for a second. Seeking in that arrogance that was so typically Slytherin, he looked up at Draco again, a hint of challenge in his eyes.

"I don't remember you being so concerned about the welfare of the weaklings. But maybe those nice principles don't apply to you, do they?"

"First, she's not weak, just small and young. Second, she is Slytherin, one of our housemates. I, for one, have never harassed a fellow Slytherin around." The sternness was back in his voice. "You're right about some things, though. When I was your age, I was a little pretentious prick and there was nobody to kick my ass hard enough to make me see reason. You, my young friend, have that chance" he said, smiling. It was not a pleasant smile. He stayed silent a second and went on. "So, you said that in our house we have to earn our place, prove ourselves. Well, I agree with that. Logically, it's to the highest ranks you have to prove yourself to. In your case, buddy, that means _me_. Now, I'm asking you: do you think that I've been impressed by your earlier performance?"

"No" Graham mumbled, looking away.

"Funny, I don't think I'm impressed either!" Draco said, the sarcasm clear in his voice. "You've always been a pain in the ass, Pritchard, and you don't seem to be getting any better. Now, I'm warning you for the last time. You better start to show some respect and pray I never see you treat one of your housemates like that ever again, or I swear you'll be _very_ sorry. Understood?" The threat behind the words was palpable.

Not waiting for him to say anything else, Draco turned toward the young girl. God, she was minuscule! And looked terrified. Getting bullied by her own housemate before even her first class was so not a good way to start her scholarship. He helped her up.

"You're alright there, kiddo?" She simply nodded. "What's your name?" For the life of him he couldn't remember. He hadn't been paying very close attention to the sorting the previous night.

"I'm Cassandra. Cassandra Wilkes. Everybody calls me Cassie" she answered with a shy smile, but there was something about her that told him she only needed a couple of days to acquaint herself with this new place and those new people, and she wouldn't be shy anymore. A good thing too, for to be a shy bird among the Slytherins was to be anyone's meat.

He vaguely recalled Wilkes being one of his father's relations, but he didn't remember the man having a daughter. He gave out his large hand to shake her small one.

"Draco Malfoy" he replied, and they shook hands. He crouched down a little. "I'm a seventh year prefect, so if you have a problem of any kind you just come to me, or any other prefect, and we'll see what we can do". He pointed in his friends' direction. "You see that girl who's sitting in front of the tall black-haired guy? Her name's Pansy Parkinson. She's my friend and also a prefect, so you can go to her if you're in trouble. You're going to be ok?" he asked, still bending.

Her smile widened, and she surprised the hell out of him by throwing her short arms around his neck and hugging him. "Thank you, Draco" she whispered.

The young man was so shocked, he almost panicked. To say he never had been much of a hugger was the year's greatest understatement. Then, realising it would be silly to overreact for such a small thing, he patted her awkwardly on the back until she let go. Almost afraid Cassie would pulled something else equally embarrassing, he quickly went back to sit with his friends.

"Another crisis settled by the righteous Slytherin prince!" Pansy declared, a hand on her heart.

"Very moving, Dray!" Blaise added.

Draco shook his head at them. "Shut up."

Then, Pansy addressed to him a little more seriously. She had her down-to-business look.

"We'll have to do something about those hot heads, Draco. He and his little gang have started to think themselves above Slytherin's Law over the last year. You've put Pritchard back in his place, but he's not our only problem. I'm good with most of the house but I have no real hold on some of them. No matter how many times I hexed those gits out of their skin, I'll always be just another cute face." She sighed. "I don't have to like it, but it stays the truth. That's the world you and I and they have been raised in. I've done my best but, let's face it, I am not you. And last year, you were… not there."

She didn't have to say another word. Draco knew he hadn't been there for his house and friends last year. Struggle to survive will do that to you. And now, they had to pick up the pieces. He sighed. _I'm so tired… and not just physically_. Coming back to Hogwarts, he had thought he would keep a low profile, try not to draw attention too much. The Fates didn't seem to agree with is plan. But looking at Pansy's hidden worries, he promised himself he wouldn't let her down again. Then, the owls arrived with mail and he welcomed the distraction. First came their schedule.

"We have Charms this morning and… Potions this afternoon" said Pansy, comparing hers and Draco's schedules.

"You'll have to do without me this morning. I have Herbology. What's better than getting dirty first thing in the morning?" He smiled and took a look at the rest of their mail. "Bet those are from your mothers".

"Not that big a gamble. My mother has sent me a note every first day of school for the last six years!" Draco replied while he opened the letter. As soon as he touched the fine paper, he knew it was bespelled and with what magic. Discretely, he took his knife and made a shallow cut on his thumb under the table, just deep enough to draw blood. Then, he spread that drop on one of the sheet's edges. When his blood disappeared, his mother's elegant handwriting surfaced.

_Hello, darling._

_I hope your trip and arrival went without incident. I know you were not too eager about going back. I, myself, was more than a little worried to have you far from home in the circumstances, but your father thinks it is what is best for you. Lucius has many faults, but I trust his judgement in the matter. Just try to make the best of it. At least, you get to be with Pansy and Blaise. I know you do not want to talk about your qualms with neither I nor your father, but I know they would be happy to listen if you would just let them. They are such good friends, do not push them away._

_As for the disagreement you had with Lucius…_

_Disagreement_? Draco snorted at the soft word. They hadn't disagreed, they had fought. But then, Narcissa had always been the ultimate diplomat.

_As for the disagreement you had with Lucius, do not upset yourself too much over it. I talked to him, and, when he calmed down, he agreed that the two of you should have a real discussion over the topic. He promised he would be at the manor for Christmas, even if it is hazardous for him to be seen around here. Please, sweetheart, try not to infuriate your father right away like you did this summer. You know he does not react well to such offensive manners for you react exactly the same way._

_Although you've only been gone for two days, I already miss you. With your father gone in hiding, the manor feels so vast and empty. I guess that worrying to death about my child is implicit part of motherhood. Write me back and let me know you are doing well._

_May the gods protect you_

_Love_

_Narcissia Eve Black Malfoy_

_PS: Please, do give my good wishes to the young Mr Zabini, he is such a charming young man._

Folding the letter, Draco had mixed feelings. He couldn't help but take comfort in his mother's evident tenderness when it came to him. On the other hand, the obvious sadness in Narcissa's words cut him deep. He didn't like her being alone. Of course, he knew she wasn't _really_ alone. He knew for a fact that Victoria Parkinson couldn't pass a week without, at the very least, a four o'clock tea at Malfoy Manor. But still…

Looking up at Blaise, he said "My mother sends you her greetings".

Pansy looked up at Draco and then Blaise. "So does my mother. How do you manage that? How come all parents loves you? Considering your slutty reputation, I'd think it would be the other way around."

Blaise shrugged and smiled. "Natural charm, Pansy dearest! With a well calculated praise here and there, of course."

Draco narrowed his eyes at him playfully. "You better not have been flirting with my mother, you jerk!"

Blaise's smile broadened. "I don't know, Dray. I may not be able to help myself. Narcissa's a looker!"

Draco snorted. "I'd like to see you try! My father would kill you. Painfully, I might add. Quite a _bit_ jealous, Lucius is. You don't want to be on his blacklist. And it wouldn't even work anyway. My parents are so in love with each other, it's almost revolting!"

Pansy gave him a look. "Please, stop complaining! I'd like my parents to be like yours. Mine barely talk to each other anymore. They are only together to keep the facade up."

"You wouldn't be so envious if you were the one who walked in on them during a passionate interlude on my father's desk." He made a show of shivering.

Both of his friends busted in laughter at his antics.

It was Pansy who finally said "Come on, guys! We should gather our things from the dungeon. It's almost time for class."

The boys took their cue and got up after Pansy. Just when he was about to go through the great doors, Draco felt the fine hair on the nape of his neck raise. He turned around in the doorframe. _She_ was looking at him. No. She was scrutinising him. Her gaze so unyielding, he _felt_ it on his skin. Again, that sense of déjà vu came like a commanding wave. Demanding that he remember. _Remember what?_ he cried in his mind. He frowned at her. She smiled softly. He turned around and left.


	5. Chapter 4 - Surprise & Mystery

**Chapter 4 – Surprise and Mystery**

A moment later, the Slytherin trio was back from the dungeon. Blaise parted from them to join his Herbology class outside the castle, while Draco and Pansy made their way to the Charm classroom. N.E.W.T.s level classes were taught to students from all houses at the same time, for there were few who managed to attain the grades required. The fact that many parents had retired their kids from Hogwarts also reduced the groups seize. Concerning the grades, they had made an exception with Draco, taking account of his fifth year's results instead of his sixth year's. The previous year, he had been too busy trying to survive and not get his parents killed to worry about anything else. _I guess it was bonded to buy me some sympathy,_ he thought wryly. Of course, some people were going to argue about that.

As soon as he entered the room, Hogwarts' number one wannabe hero, namely Harry Potter, was in his face.

"I don't care that they think it's ok for you to come back here. Like you were some bloody repentant sinner! I know who you are, Malfoy! I know _what_ you are!" the Gryffindor blasted in a low hushed tone.

Draco snorted rudely, an ugly smile drawn upon his aristocratic face. "You don't know shit, Pothead!"

The Boy Wonder was about to retort something, but Miss Know-it-all Granger stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, Harry. You don't need any more trouble. He isn't worth it anyway" she said, giving Draco a disdainful look.

Pansy rolled her eyes in annoyance at the bushy-haired girl's attitude. Harry started to turn around.

Draco sneered. "Yeah, go ahead, Scarface. Do as the brainy one said. Like a good obedient puppy". He knew he was taunting him, but the git made it so damn easy. Pansy was smirking at his side. God, to irritate the hell out of them really was entertaining!

Potter looked ready to assault him, but Flitwick chose that moment to gather his class attention.

"Now, young ladies and young men, take your seat and we shall begin".

The dark-haired Gryffindor threw him a last infuriated look, to which Draco responded with his own neutral arrogant face. Potter finally turned away half-dragged by the Granger girl. They went to sit beside the Weasel King who had been too busy arguing with Pavarti to join Potter's little crusade against him. The two Slytherins went to the other side of the room, where Daphne and Theodore were sitting. Draco caught Theo staring at him. Again, Draco had the uneasy feeling he was being watched by the young wizard. He scowled at him.

"Got a problem, Nott?" he asked moodily.

"None" Theo answered, half smiling.

"Better keep it that way, then" Draco retorted, and he sat.

The rest of the class was relatively eventless except for the death glares the blond Slytherin received from his long time's enemy. But then, Draco had expected nothing else from any holier-than-thou Gryffindor, least of all Potter. Flitwick started with a short theoretical lecture before he left his high skilled student to their practical exercises.

The Charms class ended three hours later. Since Draco didn't want to give the Gryffindor the time to have another go at him, he and Pansy lost no time and went straight to the dungeon to put away their books before lunch. They thought they would meet Blaise in the common room, but the young man was nowhere in sight. Not overly alarmed about the flirty Slytherin absence, they directed themselves to the Great Hall. But Blaise wasn't there either. Pansy looked questionably at Draco.

"Where do you reckon that idiot went? It's not like him to skip a meal."

Draco shrugged. "I bet he'll turn up any minute."

He did not. When they stood to get ready for their Potions class, the black-haired Slytherin still hadn't showed up. More and more concerned over their friend, they walked the way to the Potion's classroom but made a hook to the Slyhterin common room again to make sure Blaise hadn't return. They arrived in class a few minutes before the bell rang and found their missing friend tranquilly eating a sandwich. He coolly smiled at them while they approached. Pansy gaped at him disbelieving.

"Where the hell were you? Draco and I have waited for you."

"Aww! Concerned over my safety, were you? How touching! This is so cute, Pansy!" and he brought her in a big bear hug until she could barely breathe. Pansy struggled furiously to free herself from the iron clutch.

"Stop it, you annoying git!"

That made Draco and Blaise laugh. The later let his of captive go, amused at her exasperated expression. Still, Draco reiterated her question. To his great surprise, the boy looked slightly embarrassed.

"Well, you see, I've been a little side-tracked on my way back." He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I came across the Patil girl and… hum… I kind of tried to ask an advance on our Hogmeade's date."

Draco was startled. Was he dreaming or was _The_ Blaise Zabini blushing? As for Pansy, she looked outraged.

"You're telling me you kept us waiting because you were too busy pawing some Gryffindor chick? I can't believe…" She stopped and looked at her raven-haired friend in astonishment. "Wait. It can't be. Did you actually say _tried_?" He shrugged and looked away. That was answer enough. The girl grinned broadly. "You've been turned down? Now, that's the best news I've heard in a long time!" She laughed. "You know, Pavarti Patil just earned herself many points in my book."

Then, Blaise's face changed as if he just remembered something.

"I almost forgot! You will never guess what!" but he never got to finish his thought.

Professor Slughorn, Potion Master and new Slytherin Head of House, entered the classroom.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." He greeted them with his usual enthusiasm. "Everybody, settle down and open your book to chapter 1. We will start…"

He was interrupted when someone knocked at the door. At first, Slughorn frowned at the disruption but went to open the door. When he recognized the person who had just disturbed his class, he looked astonished and then delighted as a radiant smile appeared on his face. The professor motioned the visitor in. The whole class gasped, Draco among them. Ginevra Weasley entered the room.

"That's what I was going to tell you about. She was in my Herbology class this morning," Blaise whispered in his friend's ear.

Draco kept his gaze on the freckled girl. She looked a little uncertain as she searched for a place to sit. Slughorn seemed to understand her discomfort.

"You can pair up with Miss Parkinson. I'm sure she won't mind. Will you, dear?" He questioned the older girl.

"Of course not, Professor" she mumbled between clenched teeth.

Pansy moved to the table in front of Draco and Blaise's. Ginny looked a little intimidated. However, Draco had to give her credit, for she regained her composure quite fast. She started to walk toward her designed place. Draco saw Slughorn shake his head fondly at the small Gryffindor's back and say "Such an outstanding little woman". Once she sat beside Pansy, Ginny turned to the other girl and acknowledged her with a brief nod.

"Parkinson."

Pansy mirrored the gesture.

"Weasley."

Then, Slughorn started his lecture about N.E.W.T.s and how exacting he was going to be with them. But Draco wasn't listening. He kept staring at the long red mane in front of him. In his defence, the bright hair was quite eye-catching. The young man felt mesmerized by the endless shades of red her hair melted together. How soft the wavy locks looked. He could just picture how it would feel to dive his fingers through it while he'd… He slapped himself mentally. Wow! His train of thoughts was scary.

When he recovered his ability to think straight, he realized he wasn't the only one who didn't listen to Professor Slughorn's monologue about N.E.W.T.s' importance. The Weasley girl kept throwing gazes in Potter and Granger's direction. He couldn't see her face, but the look she received from both of them was disturbing. The Mudblood's expression was clearly disapproving, but Potter looked down right betrayed. What would their precious little Ginny have done to justify such look? Surely it couldn't just be the fact that she was sitting among Slytherins. She hadn't even chosen to. The girl in front of him finally settled her eyes on her textbook with a sigh that sounded resigned.

Slughorn finally began to explain the procedure of the day's potion. Half an hour later, the students stood up to collect the ingredients from the front table. As they started to settle everything for the assignment, the young redhead turned to her partner.

"Listen, Parkinson. I know I'm not at the same level as you yet. You're more experienced than I am at brewing potions. However, I know my way around components preparation. Consequently, it would be best if for a couple of weeks you were in charge of the brewing itself and I take care of the ingredients. I'll eventually catch up. That, I can guaranty." She looked at the older girl straight in the eyes.

"Whatever you say, Weasley" Pansy responded, shrugging.

Despite her bored attitude, Draco knew his fellow Slytherin was quite impress at the Gryffindor admitting her deficiency. He, for one, would never have. Like any good Slytherin, he would sooner die than confess having a flaw of any sort.

While he and Blaise went on with their own cauldron, Draco kept gliding glances at the other table. Surprisingly, the girls seemed to do quite fine. They barely talked to each other during the whole process, though. Ginny prepared the ingredients efficiently and handed them to Pansy before she even had to ask. The younger girl took in everything her partner did, memorizing the techniques. In fact, the both of them appeared to be a very proficient team.

At some point, there was nothing left to do except to stir it clockwise at a stable pace and make sure the temperature stayed constant. Draco used that time to interrogate the little lion.

"So, Weasley, care to tell us how come you've got seventh year classes? I know it isn't because you're that smart."

She ignored the implied insult and answered without taking her eyes off her bubbling mixture. "The odds are that I won't be here next year. I wanted to at least finish my schooling." The bitterness in her last statement was almost painful to hear and made the three Slytherins look up at her.

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow at her. "What? Caught some lethal disease, Weasley? I certainly hope your brother gets it too."

She snorted. "I bet you do!" She finally levelled her gaze to his. "By the way, tell me, do Ron and I look that much alike?"

Blaise gave her a hot once-over. "Oh no, baby, you don't!"

"Well, maybe you should stop calling us the same then."

Draco rolled his eyes. "All right… pixie."

She actually smiled at him. "Now, that's kind of cute." She looked back at her cauldron. "I think it's time to vial it. What do you say, Parkinson?"

The older girl examined the dark forest green potion before she agreed. While they carefully took a sample of their work, professor Slughorn walked up to their table.

"You are already finished with the assignment?" The girls nodded and handed the vial to the Potion Master. "Hmm. I'll have to test it properly, but that looks like a job well done to me!" He smiled warmly at them. "Quite an inspiration I had to team these young ladies with one another. But I've always had a sixth sense to draw talents together" he added looking pleased with himself.

A few minutes later, the class was dismissed and the students stood to leave the classroom. Just as Ginny was about to walk through the door Potter passed by her and rudely bumped into her shoulder, spilling her things to the floor in the process. Granger went after him. Shaking her head, Ginny kneeled on the floor and started to collect her stuff while the rest of the class passed her by to exit. Without even thinking, Draco crouched to pick up a scroll that had rolled in his direction. He walked and handed it to her. To say she looked surprised was very much an understatement.

She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it. Finally, she said a simple "Thanks" and went.

"What has got into the git? As far as I can remember, Potter's little crew has always treated the Weasley girl like glass, and now they treat her like shit. It doesn't make sense" Pansy said at his side while they were going back to Slytherin common room.

Blaise shrugged. "Potter's an idiot. That's nothing new."

Pansy gave him a look. "Please! We all know there's something up with that lot. And after what we saw in there, I'd bet anything it's connected to Ginevra Weasley."

The trio went through the portrait and entered their common room. They didn't bother to put away their books and went straight for the seats by the fireplace. Pansy and Blaise took place on a couch while Draco let himself fall in one of the cosy armchairs stretching his long legs before him.

"What do you reckon is going on?" he asked her.

"Hard to tell," she sighed. "Well, obviously she did something her bunch disapproves of."

The blond Slytherin snorted. "_Disapprove_? Come on, Pansy! You saw Pothead's face and what he did. I'd say he does more than disapprove."

"I think there's a lot of dissension among the little Griffins," Theodore said taking a seat in front of Draco. Daphne followed and sat on the chair's arm next to him.

Draco still didn't know what to make of the solitary Slytherin. He raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Remember this morning, in Charms? Weasley was arguing rather animatedly with Pavarti Patil."

That was true. Draco hadn't made much of it at the time, but now that he thought about it… It didn't make much more sense, but it brought a new dimension to the mystery.

"There's also the fact that the Ginevra has skipped a year" Daphne reminded them. "First time I hear of such thing. Surely if it was standard procedure Granger would have seized the occasion by now. I mean, the little Weasley is smart, but there are other smart people around here and I don't see them skipping a year."

"She said it's because she won't be coming back next year" Draco said, remembering her dour tone.

That got the Slytherins thinking, but none of them had the beginning of an answer as to why Ginny wouldn't complete her schooling in due time.

Looking in front of him at Theo and Daphne, Draco wondered. He esteemed the two Slytherins, but could he trust them? Daphne's family had no connection to the Dark Side, but Theo… Theodore's father was a known Death Eater, but Draco knew nothing of the boy's allegiance. Just like Draco he had experienced the general pressure to formally and officially choose a side, and just like him he had managed to delay the unavoidable. Draco knew for a fact that many Slytherins didn't want to become Death Eaters. Voldemort's grand crusade against muggles and muggle-born wizards didn't appeal to most of the young generation. Unfortunately, for many like Draco, there was no choice to be made. As angry as the Dark Lord may be with Lucius, he would never give up on Malfoy's money and relations. Thus, he would never give up on the Malfoy heir. What about Nott? Could it be that Theodore was in the same situation as he? Somehow, Draco couldn't picture Theo as a Death Eater. The young man was simply too independent to fit the frame. Again, he wondered. Could he trust Daphne and Theodore? Maybe. Maybe not. For now, he reserved his judgment.

As the weeks went by, Draco realized most of the student body, including his own housemates, thought he already was a Death Eater. For a time, he duelled on denying it or not and decided not to. Nor did he confirm it anyway. First, he knew most of them wouldn't even believe a word he says. Second, it kept everybody at a distance, and Draco was all for that. Some Slytherins, Pritchard among them, had tried to get corroboration out of him, but the seventh year prefect had long become a master at verbal tap dance. So far, so good.

One person he seemed unable to get rid of was Cassandra Wilkes. It became clear that the small Slytherin's new goal in life was to worship the ground he walked on. The girl kept coming to him for advices and every time he opened his mouth she seemed to drink his words like they were something holy. It amused Blaise and Pansy (and all the Slytherins for that matter) to no end. Draco had waited to be annoyed by her constant adulation, but it never came. In fact, it was the opposite. Cassie was growing on him a little more every day.

He'd been right the first time he'd met her. After a week or so, her timidity had been but a memory. The tiny first year was sharp-minded and incredibly cunning. Draco had witnessed her hexing Graham Pritchard's butt and then giving the best innocent face a Slytherin had ever muster. Thinking about it, he still felt proud in a big-brother kind of way.

It seemed Draco had recently developed a weakness for petite females because Cassie wasn't the only one who grew on him. He now had the hardest time associating Ginevra Weasley with the bunch of Gryffindors he had come to scorn. The fact that the Golden Trio had rejected her to a certain extent had probably contributed to that change in perception. The more he observed her, the more she became her own person in his eyes. Someone not only smart, but hard-working. He had seen her countless times studying on her own in the library to catch up with the other seventh year students. He even saw her fall asleep on her books once.

The unnatural attraction he felt toward Ginny kept growing, and so did the mystery that surrounded the young woman. During the night patrols that preceded Halloween, he and Pansy found light coming from one of the ground classroom. They first thought they would find a couple of horny teenagers, but what they discovered was a little more singular. They looked in the divination classroom that had been converted into a piece of wilderness to accommodate Firenze. The quadruped professor was there, but he was not alone. They could hear a woman talk to him, and even though they couldn't see her, the voice was unmistakably Ginevra's. She sounded miserable.

"Isn't there a way to be free of it, Firenze? Am I so utterly helpless before the Fates? Do I have any freewill left?"

The centaur gave a sad gentle smile to the girl, an expression he rarely directed toward humans.

"You will always keep your freewill, little one. It is a thing even the gods would never interfere with. But some destinies are not so easily ignored. You can try to fight against it, but there is no saying what dismay might come from your resistance. The greatest the path, the narrowest the edge to walk on."

They fell silent for a moment. Ginny's voice came soft as a sigh, barely audible.

"I feel the pull, but I can't help fighting it. It goes against so much of what I think… what I thought. What if he doesn't come around? I know he will fight it too. I can't exactly blame him."

"The issue depends on how well you will deal with your own struggles, _a leanbh_."

Ginevra sighed heavily.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"I am deeply sorry I cannot lessen your burden." He paused. "You should seek some rest now. Your energy is running low."

"Yeah, I should rest. Do you mind if I stay here for the night? I like it here." She did sound tired.

The centaur's handsome feature lightened.

"Gwendolyn's protégées will always be welcomed in my home."

"Thank you" she responded, and it was scarcely a whisper.

The light went out in the classroom. It was the prefects' cue to move. As they walked down the corridor, Draco's mind ran full speed trying to sort out what they had just witnessed. They stayed silent until they were on their way back to the dungeon. When they entered the Slytherin common room it was empty and dark, the only light came from the embers in the fireplace. Before the stairs that led to the dormitories, they paused and looked at each other.

"Well, that was weird" Pansy finally said. Draco made a face. "Alright. That was way past weird! What do you think it was all about?"

Draco let out a tired sigh, rubbing a hand on his forehead.

"It was all very vague. They were talking about destiny, the Fates… It sounded an awful lot like Trelawney's jabber to me. Except that I'd sooner believe Firenze's word than Trelawney's. I don't know." He stopped to think about what he'd heard. "She said something about someone who may not come around. That he would fight this… whatever she's upset about. It may be about Potter. They broke up last year, and no one really knows why. I mean, the two of them were bonded to end up together. She's been lovesick with Potter since day one." He didn't know why, but thinking about how Ginny and Potter had been all over each other last year made something ache in his chest. "She may think he won't come around because they aren't on the best of terms at the moment. And this whole destiny crap, it made me think of the prophecy."

His friend raised both eyebrows at him.

"You mean that nonsense about Potter defeating the Dark Lord? This is rubbish! He is only a seventeen years old _boy_, and a very average one at that. You really think that prophecy is true?"

He gave her a steady look.

"Believe me, Pansy. I know it is a true prophecy. This bloody prediction is what got my father into trouble for breaking in the Ministry. The freaking thing is the reason why I was brought into last year's hell."

He could read the shock on Pansy's face. Draco hadn't talk to anyone of what had been going on since the end of fifth year when his father had been arrested after the Ministry's fiasco. Blaise and Pansy knew his father had been captured by Aurors in the Ministry, but not exactly what had happened that night. They also knew Voldemort had appointed him with a mission last year, but not why. They knew nothing of the fright he'd felt and was still feeling. Looking at his childhood friend's concerned face, Draco realized just how much he'd kept from them and how much they must have resented it. In one of his rare emotional moment, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. "I'm sorry" he whispered in her hair. She hugged him back a little tighter and Draco heard her sniff. They stayed in that comfortable embrace for a little while, until Pansy pulled back. She raised her tearful eyes to his.

"We'll talk about it some other time. Now you need your rest, Draco." He looked away but she seized his chin so he would face her again. "I'm not kidding! I know you don't sleep well, Blaise told me. He said you were having nightmares. Why didn't you tell us about them?"

Draco sighed.

"It's stupid. They aren't even nightmares. At least, I don't think so. You remember on our first night back at school. I told you I had a dream that felt strange, a dream I couldn't remember." She nodded. "I've been having those dreams ever since. Every morning I wake up exhausted from dreams I have no memory of. It's driving me mad."

Pansy seemed to think about it for a second.

"Blaise also told me you had trouble finding sleep." She didn't ask anything but looked at him expectantly.

Draco cringed. _Can't Blaise keep anything for himself?_ That was true though. Falling asleep was just as much an issue as his energy-sucking dreams. But for an entirely different reason. When he laid down at night, he just couldn't put his mind off Ginny Weasley. As if he wasn't already daydreaming enough about her. He knew it was turning to obsession, and it scared him. However, he was so not about to confessing that to Pansy. He was barely admitting it to himself.

"I have a lot on my mind" he simply said, and it was true. "Don't worry. I've been through a lot worse than sleeping troubles and survived. Now, we both should go to sleep."

She seemed a little suspicious, but she smiled before she took the staircase toward the girls' dormitories.

Draco climbed up the stairs and entered the room he shared with Blaise. His roommate was already fast asleep. Careful not to wake his friend, the young man took off his clothes, got in his pyjamas and slid between the sheets. Laying there, in the dark, he kept replaying the conversation they'd overheard earlier in his mind. Even though he didn't know exactly what they had been talking about, when Ginny had spoken her fear of losing her freewill, he had felt a moment of perfect understanding.

For some time now, he was very well acquainted with the sentiment of being a tool for anyone to use. His sixth year had dispelled any romantic delusion he might have had about the Dark Lord and his cause. What burden did the little red Gryffindor carry to sound so dejected? The sorrow in her voice had cut right through him. He didn't understand his sudden empathy where she was concerned. What was it about her that could touch him so? He could deny it all he wanted, but he felt drawn to her. Unhealthily so. If his father was to ever hear of it… he didn't even want to think about Lucius' possible reaction.

Last summer, when his father had come home for a couple days, Draco had unleashed his rage on him and Lucius had reacted accordingly. Hadn't it been for Narcissa, they could have killed each other. Not that he really wanted his father dead, but it had been the first time he'd seen him since the fatidic night of Dumbledore's death. Draco had grown so angry during the year. Angry over his helplessness. When his father had crossed the doorstep, he'd been blinded by his own wrath. His mother had had to knock them both unconscious. From then on, they'd ignored each other as much as possible. The fact that Lucius couldn't stay at the same place too long for fear of alerting the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had helped. He had actually felt bad to be relieved by his father's absence when his mother resented it so much.

For the nth time, he wondered how Lucius and he could ever close the gap that now lay between them. Draco started to think that maybe it was irrevocable. On that sad thought, he slipped in a slumber he knew wouldn't be restful.


	6. Chapter 5 - Morrigan and Taranis

**Chapter 5 – Mórrígan and Taranis**

Draco woke up on Saturday, Halloween's morning, and for the first time in two months he remembered something of his dream. Not much, mind you, but it was still something. The moment he realised that, he frenetically tried to cling to the memory. A desperation born of long weeks of restless sleep. Weeks of waking up with his brain pounding because memories tried to dig their way out of his mind and failed. So he fought to keep his hold on this one piece.

A face. A woman's face. A dark-haired beauty with soothing eyes. She'd looked at him with a tenderness that had slice through his very soul. Draco could still picture her soft smile, serene and radiant. That had been an angel's smile. Just thinking about her put him at ease. Like he had nothing to worry about as long as he could keep gazing into those calm pools. By the gods! If only he knew who she was. How he needed peace. Craved it. But peace was something he hadn't felt in a very long time. Not until last night.

With her.

Who could she be? He wondered. Then, he shook his head self-depreciably. It was only a dream. She was only a dream.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the bed's side.

On the other side of the room, Blaise raised his gaze from _The Celts: Pantheon, Rites and Tales_ and sat up on his bed.

"Hey, mate! Hope you don't mind" he said, waving the book. "I wanted something to pass the time until you wake up."

Draco simply shrugged. The volume was the only worn-out thing he'd ever owned. It had been a gift from his mother when he'd left for Hogwarts seven years ago. It contained old Celtic tales Narcissia had read to him as bedtime stories. When her baby had been about to leave the nest, she had wanted for him to keep a piece of home.

"It's alright. I've read it at least a thousand times."

"I know. That's why I picked it up." He returned to his initial sprawled position. "Have you decided on a costume for tonight yet?"

Yawning, Draco rose from the warm sheets and started to get dressed. He shot his friend a look.

"Costume…? Ah, yes. Halloween's feast." He absentmindedly scratched his scalp. "I didn't really think about it."

The truth was, he'd had so much on his mind lately that an Halloween costume had ended very low on his priority list. Which made him think…

"Pansy and I came across some weird conversation during our patrol last night."

Draco related the peculiar encounter to the other Slytherin. When his tale came to an end, he looked expectantly at his roommate. Blaise blinked once.

"The Fates, destinies… If we didn't already know there were something odd going on in Gryffindor's house, I'd say it sounds like Trelawney's gibberish to me."

Draco snorted at that. His thought exactly. However, he knew enough about centaurs to be sure one wouldn't talk about something like destiny flippantly.

Draco sighed.

It'd been two months now since the start of term, and uncanny things kept piling up. The Sorting Hat's silence. The Golden Trio's strange behaviour around Ginevra. And Ginevra herself.

Everything was odd about her. She'd changed, gain a new depth. Draco had instinctively sensed it when he'd met her on the train. He'd reacted to it strongly. Then they'd learned she'd skipped a year. While even he, Slytherin to the core though he was, had to admit she was a clever girl, such thing had simply never been done at Hogwarts. Why couldn't she finish her schooling next year? What reason would convince their rule abiding headmistress to bend the school's tradition? And now there was her late night encounter with Firenze. Their talk about destiny. If he added his eerie dreams and the annoying sense of déjà vu he constantly had about Ginny Weasley to the lot, it was enough to drive Draco mad with speculation.

But it was no use splitting his skull over it right then. He'd better start thinking about a costume for the night's festivities. He didn't feel like going at all, but he'd grown up in a house where traditions surrounding all the year's major phases were supposed to be respected and celebrated. Skipping Samhain's feast? His mother would be appalled.

While the two young men got dressed for the day, Draco's eyes lingered on the book discarded on the bedspread. A slow smile was drawn on his face. He'd found just the right costume.

Half an hour later, as he and his friends silently made their way toward the Great Hall for breakfast, Draco considered passing the whole day buried in the library. Knowing he had a training session planned the next day for the Slytherin's Quidditch team, he thought wise to get ahead of his studies. Again, he cursed the last year predicament that had left him with so much catch up to do. Not that the present year was going to be a piece of cake either, although for an entirely different reason as he realised when they entered the Great Hall.

The large room, usually buzzing with noise in the morning, was unnaturally quiet. The students were whispering among themselves and the teachers at the head table looked remarkably subdued. The three Slytherins shared a puzzled look and went to take seats at their house's table. As soon as he sat, Draco turned to Astoria Greengrass, a fifth year and Daphne's little sister.

"Hey, Tory. What's the matter?" he asked, and Blaise and Pansy leaned forward to listen.

"There's been an attack in Diagon Alley yesterday night. Or so the word goes. Nobody seems to have any official confirmation yet, though. We'll probably have to wait for Monday's paper to be sure. It looks like someone overheard the teachers talking about it early this morning. They probably would have preferred to keep it quiet as long as possible, but… Well, we all know how fast news travel at Hogwarts."

The three older Slytherins nodded.

"Anyway," she continued. "If the rumour is true, they attacked a reading club."

That made Blaise gasps incredulously.

"A _reading club_? Why? What kind of target is that?"

"A cultural one would be my guess," Astoria answered. "It was a muggle's literature reading club. It seems quite a few of the club's members have been seriously injured… or killed." She fell silent.

That made them pause, and Astoria returned to her breakfast.

Just looking around, Draco could tell the news had a drastic effect on the staff and student body. It was a violent reminder to everyone of what was really going on outside the protective stonewalls of the castle. It was war, and many had forgotten that, numbed by the whirl their academic routine. It was so tempting to forget. If only he could. Draco sighed and started filling is plate, trying to ignore the stares thrown their way from all around the Great Hall. Of course, more than ever, the Slytherins were receiving murderous glares. And he, being the Devil's spawn in everyone's mind, was considered to be the worst kind of Slytherin. _What a bunch of idiots!_ He thought, sensing his anger rising.

That was one more incitement for Draco to isolate himself in Madam Pince's closely guarded haven. Having suddenly lost his appetite, he rose from his seat and told his concerned-looking friends he'd be in the library.

A moment later, he entered the library under the suspicious glare of the librarian. That was almost relieving, though. At least, she was equally suspicious of all and every students who got near her precious books.

As the room was empty of student except for himself, he had not trouble finding a reclusive corner to settle in. Unfortunately, he was only twenty minute in his reading of Miranda Goshawk's _Book of Spells for the Advanced Apprentice_ when someone dropped in the seat next to his. Draco didn't cover his displeasure when he saw who the intruder was. Graham Pritchard.

"Malfoy," Pritchard greeted.

Draco didn't bother to respond but heaved an annoyed sigh at him. The fourth year Slytherin seemed to considered him a second.

"You heard about Diagon Alley." It wasn't a question. When Draco still didn't respond, Pritchard continued. "I'm curious. Nobody knows much about it, but… You wouldn't happen to possess any more details about the attack, would you?" That made Draco narrow his eyes at him. A warning the boy didn't get apparently. "I know how… well connected you are" he added with a smile that tugged the corner of his lips.

Draco stayed silent for several heartbeats and looked around the library to make sure there was no one nearby before he asked quietly "You want some private info, Pritchard?" The younger Slytherin nodded, his eagerness clear in his eyes. "Follow me, then."

Draco rose from his chair and lead Graham farther back in the room, between the shelves' rows. When he thought they were far enough not to alert Madam Pince, he swiftly grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt and shoved him up against the bookshelves. Then, he held him up there with a flick of his wand. He'd had enough of the nosy little prick.

"Listen to me and listen well because I won't say it again," he hissed in a low tone, pointing his wand at Graham's throat. "I want you to stop pestering me and tell your little friends to do same. You used the very last bit of patience I had left where you're concerned and I won't be held responsible for my actions if you push me further." He pressed him a little tighter against the shelves to make his point. "A word of advice, kid. If you have the least bit of self-preservation, stop nosing around Death Eater's business. You so don't know what you're poking at."

Draco abruptly let go of Pritchard making him stumble down. He went out from between the shelves without looking at the sprawled form on the floor and went back to his books. A moment later, he noted Pritchard's retreat from the library from the corner of his eyes and let out a sigh. He hoped the git had enough brain to realise what was best for him. Unfortunately, nothing was less certain since the boy was a little too close in character to the git he himself had been at the same age: arrogant, overconfident, self-centred and lured by the illusion of greatness of a madman. Trying to shake off the troubling thoughts, he dived back in his spell book.

The study provided an efficient distraction as he pretty much lost track of time. Nevertheless, around five o'clock, he closed his books and went back to the dungeon to get ready for the feast. He needed very little to constitute his costume, and what he lacked he could transfigure. Forty five minutes later, he joined Pansy and Blaise in the common room. Most of their housemates were already gone. He instantly smiled at Blaise's costume. How appropriate: a werewolf. A half-naked one at that.

"I love your costume. You'll be looking for Little Red Riding Hood, I take it?"

His friend answered with a side smile. A wolfish one, of course.

"Not so little."

Draco turned to Pansy. She wore a dark veil that stopped at mid-face and a black dress that would have been sedate if it weren't for the impressively low neckline. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. She smiled predatorily at him.

"I'm the Black Widow."

That's when he saw her apparently-bloodstained hands. Nice.

"What about you?" she asked. Both she and Blaise were trying to figure out is costume.

He wore a grey silk sheet, draped artfully on his hips, looking like he was covered by a rainy cloud. A thunderbolt-like sceptre in one hand, he also wore a silver chain with a large wheel pendant resting on his bare plexus.

"Blaise should be able to figure it out" he said, and made his way out of the common room, enjoying their puzzlement.

A moment later, they entered the Great Hall, and Draco noticed that the house-elves hadn't spared their efforts in the decoration department this Halloween. The occult atmosphere was a success. The tables had been moved in a banquet-like U setting with the Slytherin's at an extremity and the Gryffindor's at the other. At the centre was a stage that suggested there would be a band playing later. It seemed Hogwarts' staff members had gone out of their way to ensure the students' enjoyment in the circumstances, trying to keep their mind off the war. And it worked Draco noted as he took in all the relaxed faces around the room. Faces that had been much more anxious that very morning. He marvelled at the quick mood change until he spotted the angry glare Potter was throwing him. Draco shook his head. The guy was completely obsessive.

They'd arrived a little late, and the food was already on the tables. That's when Draco realised how starved he was since he hadn't eaten yet except for the few bites he'd had that morning. He really was ravenous. They sat next to Daphne and Theodore, and the blond-haired Slytherin immediately concentrate on filing his plate as much as physical laws would allow.

Once his hunger was sated enough for him to eat at a reasonable pace, Draco raised his face from his plate. Pansy and Blaise were looking at him a bit incredulously. Blaise shook his head.

"And here I thought I was the wolf."

Draco grinned.

"I was famished. I've put my brain in overdrive today, and such a great machine needs fuel, you know."

As the meal went on, Draco found he wasn't immune to the festive ambiance and started to relax and enjoy himself. Just like that, looking at the two people he considered as close as siblings, he realised he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy anything in a very long time. Not since his father had been captured at the end of his fifth year. That was what? Over a year and a half ago? It felt like a life time. Was he even the same person? And what good had it done to isolate himself? None. All it'd done was making him even more miserable.

Draco smiled while Pansy argued to Blaise that planning to spend the rest of his life in the penthouse of a hotel on a tropical island did _not_ constitute a career choice. Of course, then Blaise tried to explain to Pansy how one could consider frequenting a beach full of monokini wearers a gratifying vocation. Blaise would say anything to annoy Pansy. For all his playfulness, the Zabini heir would be a great businessman because he had a gift to manage people. Draco just leaned on his elbows and enjoyed their word fight.

Before they knew it, the meal ended and the leftovers disappeared from the tables. A few minutes later, the musicians got on the stage and started to play. It took some time, but eventually the students went on the dance floor. It soon became obvious the young witches and wizards were determined to take advantage of the occasion and let out some steam. The floor didn't even start to unpack until ten o'clock. When he let his gaze stroll through the Great Hall, Draco's eyes caught sight of one of the dancing couples.

And he was fascinated.

Spellbound.

With Ginevra Weasley.

Since Slytherin's and Gryffindor's tables were separated by the stage, Draco couldn't have notice her until now. Now, he noticed her alright. She wore a long black dress that hugged her curvaceous body like a second skin, but the outfit was saved from being too licentious by a black cloak. It was long and covered in black feathers. The extremities were fixed to her wrists making it look like large black wings. And there was her hair. Breathtaking. She wore her long red mane down, and there were black feathers in it too. The contrast of black and red was simply too scrumptious for words. And that pale nacre-like skin. Her cleavage scooped in the black neckline looked like a jewel in a showcase.

"Good Lords! She's beautiful!" he murmured under his breath not realising he'd talked out loud until Blaise responded.

"That, she is! Glad you finally saw reason and decided to expend your tastes."

Draco didn't listen. He was too busy noticing she was dancing with Seamus Finnigan and that the arsehole was looking down her décolletage, forgetting that he'd been rather taken by the sight himself just a moment ago. What was she doing dancing with the Irish git anyway? It was quite obvious for anyone who had eyes that he didn't have a clue how to dance. An insane blast of jealousy came over him as he saw Finnigan lead his partner out of the dance floor to a quiet corner.

His increasingly violent thoughts were interrupted by his dark-haired friend getting up from his seat. Draco and Pansy looked at him inquisitively. Blaise smiled.

"I'm going to say 'hi'," he explained, nodding in Ginny's direction. "You're coming along?"

Both Slytherin prefects exchanged a look. Pansy shrugged.

"Why not?"

They got up and went after Blaise.

Finnigan was not longer with Ginny. She was sitting alone, not far from where Pavarti Patil, disguised as a mermaid, was chatting animatedly with Terry Boot. When the redhead noticed they were walking up to her, her eyes widened with surprise. She also looked a little nervous. Draco couldn't blame her. Having the Slytherin Royalty coming up to you when you were a lone Gryffindor was rarely a good omen. However, for two months now the little Weasley had been Pansy's partner in Potion, and the three of them had been civil enough to her. Well, if one considered to _not_ insult her being civil, that is. In fact, the thought crossed Draco's mind that the three of them seemed to have been more civil to her these past months than Gryffindor's Golden Trio. The ludicrousness of it was almost enough to make him stop dead in his track.

Blaise stopped in front of the small lioness and offered her an engaging smile. That seemed to dissipate her apprehension. She smiled back.

"Good evening, beautiful! Your escort left you unattended? Shame on him! Leaving such a lovely woman vulnerable without proper protection… Tsk. Doesn't chivalry exist anymore? "

Ginny raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head at his dramatics.

"Seamus just went to fetch us some drinks" she started, and then she smiled mischievously. "And I'll have you know, Blaise, that I'm hardly ever vulnerable _or_ without protection."

"That, I believe, love."

Blaise's easygoing behaviour succeeded at putting the younger Weasley at ease. She stood from her chair and considered his werewolf costume.

"I love your costume, by the way. You're on the hunt tonight, I take it. Anything on your trophy board yet?" she asked with easy humour.

Entering the game, Blaise sighed theatrically.

"Nothing yet, I'm afraid. The prey I'm after eludes me completely. I fear she's utterly indifferent to my best lure", he complained and stroked his bare chest to make sure she knew exactly what he considered his best lure.

Her impish air flourished even more. She leaned toward the large Slytherin beater, as if confiding a secret.

"I wouldn't bet on that if I were you. She actually choked on her veggies when she saw you arrived in that costume earlier. And her making a show of enjoying Terry's company is solely for your benefit."

As if on cue, Pavarti started laughing at something the seventh year Ravenclaw had said, which seemed to startle Boot who appeared not to understand her sudden hilarity.

"Interesting," he whispered, lost in his thoughts a second. Then he took a good look at Ginny, inspected her from head to toes. "I too love your costume. What are you supposed to personify? Some kind of fairy queen out to enthralled us, poor mortals?"

She smiled up at him, but when she opened her mouth to answer Draco cut in.

"Not a fairy queen, Blaise, a goddess. The Mórrígan, the Great Queen, the Crow, an Irish goddess of war and prophesies. In the form of a crow, she flies over the battlefields to gather those who died a violent death and take them under her wing. As a goddess of fertility, she's also known to initiate young warriors." He paused, remembering an old ode to the Phantom Queen. Looking straight at Ginny, he started. "Listen to the words of the Dark Goddess who brings wisdom and strength. Listen to the words of Her who has taken many names from Kali to Persephone…"

Her eyes on his, she took over.

"I am the passionate lover, the scarlet seductress who inspires love and despair to poets. I am the one who murmurs your name at the end of the journey. As the day dies, you find rest in my embrace. I am the fertile womb, mother of all things, and all things shall come back to me to be born again. I am the red forge that converts your demons in powerful weapons, so welcome my embrace and triumph! I am the glittering sword that guards you from harm. I am the velvet depth of the night sky, the swirling mist that hugs midnight with mystery. I am the chrysalis in which you shall confront your fears and from which you shall emerge vibrant, strong and new. Keep my love close to your heart and find in yourself the courage to become what you should."

For a moment, the four of them stayed utterly silent. Pansy and Blaise looked dumbfounded, as if wondering what the hell had just happened. For the life of him, Draco couldn't have said either. But something had happened. He kept staring at Ginevra, unable to do otherwise. He couldn't turn away from those large brown eyes that always seemed to touch him somewhere deep inside. She looked like she wanted to say something but was just as paralysed by the moment as he was. The tension between them grew so intense, Draco was sure he could have touched it. God! He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he cleared his throat.

"Why, I'm impressed. I didn't realise you were so knowledgeable about Celtic deities."

She smiled.

"Oh! But you know so little about me, Mr Malfoy… or should I call you… Taranis?" she asked.

It was Draco's turn to smile. Now he was even more impressed.

"Taranis, great celestial Gaulish god, master of wind and thunder. Also known as the God of the Wheel." She paused. "He is not exactly a well-known god. I'm surprised you'd think of him."

"Oh, but you know so little about me, Miss Weasley," he responded, his voice just a little above a murmur.

She considered him solemnly.

"Yes… yes, I'm starting to realise that."

Before either of them could place another word, a red tornado came and stood between them. Ronald Weasley, Draco observed, had turned an interesting shade of purple. Potter and Granger were not too far on his heels. _Here comes the cavalry_, Draco thought bitterly. Couldn't they have waited to interrupt? _We're in the middle of something here_. He looked up at the tall furious redhead with cool indifference.

"What's up Weasley? You don't look like you're enjoying the party very much" he added with an ironic side smile.

"Stay away from my sister, Malfoy! If you so much as touch a hair from her head, I swear you'll regret it!"

Draco knew he shouldn't taunt him, but… old habits die hard.

"Is that so?" He crooked his neck to look around Ronald at his sister. He gave her a hot once-over. "Funny, because should I ever touch your sister, and I can promise you it wouldn't her hair, I very much think I wouldn't regret it."

Draco had the time to see Ginny's freckled cheeks tint a cute shade of pink before his attention went to Potter who was restrained, barely, by Granger. And of course Blaise had to add his piece.

"I have to concur. Your sister's hot, Weasley." He turned to Draco. "I'm thinking we should issue an invitation to the lovely Miss Weasley for one of our famous Slytherin orgies. What do you say, mate? She would be a delicious addition, wouldn't she?"

Draco nodded.

"Mouth-watering, definitely."

Both hot-headed Gryffindor males were about to assault them when the Headmistress voice rang through the Great Hall. It succeeded in stopping them in their track.

"Goodnight, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed your evening." Everybody applauded their approval. "Before I let you go back to your respective dormitories, I want to make an announcement. Considering the… dreadful events the Widzarding World encounters these days, we decided to offer to all sixth and seventh years' students an Advanced Defence class on Saturday mornings, starting next week." The students started to whisper animatedly among themselves. McGonagall increased the volume of her voice to be heard over the noise. "The Department of Magical Laws Enforcement has agreed to send an Auror to take charge of the class. The students who are interested in attending are requested to inform their Head of House of their wish to do so sometime throughout the next week. Now, I bid you all goodnight."

Granger had used the distraction of the Headmistress's speech to drag her friends out of the trouble they no doubt would have sunk into. Draco paid them no attention. He was considering McGonagall's announcement. Additional defensive skills could come in handy. Especially in the precarious situation he found himself into. It all depended on what they judged as 'advanced'. He was already rather capable in that area, courtesy of his father's training. He guessed he would have to see for himself. He turned to his friends.

"What do you think?" Pansy asked, following Draco train of thoughts easily.

The blond shrugged.

"I think it doesn't hurt to go and see what it's worth."

On those words, they made their way out of the Great Hall with the rest of the crowd. As they went through the Entrance, Draco saw Terry Boot and Seamus Finnigan walking into their respective House direction. Ginny and Pavarti were nowhere in sight. When had they slipped out of the Great Hall? He hadn't noticed.

Mirroring his own reflection, Blaise frowned and asked "Did you see Ginny and Pavarti leave?"

"I saw them sneak out during McGonagall's speech. I think they wanted to go unnoticed" Pansy answered.

"Any guess as to what they're up to?"

"How would I know about Gryffindor night habits?" she retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe it's some secret slumber party where they get to wear silky baby dolls. I like that idea" Blaise proposed, looking wishful.

"Maybe" Draco whispered, but somehow he doubted it.


	7. Chapter 6 - Sweet Dreams

**Chapter 6 – Sweet Dreams**

It was pitch black. The moon shone silver, bright and enticing, but its glow did not reach him as he walked under the trees. He could barely see a yard in front of him. The place, or what little of it he could make out, was unfamiliar to him. He did not know why he was here either. Could not remember. But somehow, he knew his steps were guiding him to a precise destination. So he kept walking, let his feet find their way. The woods were quiet. Not disturbingly so, though. It was… peaceful, respectful. Why he had that feeling, he could not tell.

He kept walking.

Soon, he heard voices. Not from very far it seemed. One step, two steps… ten more. Then, there was light. From between the trees he saw a large blaze. Many types of incense were burning, and the breeze carried the scent to where he stood. As he got near, he saw it was a clearing and that there were about two dozen people around the fire wearing hooded cloaks. In the middle of the circle, next to the flames, were a man and a woman.

The man talked.

"In the season of darkening, the Lord of the House of Death receives the Spirits in his Hall. He is The Dark One, called Cernunnos the Horned One. He is the Torc Bearer, The Guardian of the Cauldron of Plenty.

Hear us now, Horned One, Dark one, Receiver of the Dead, Granter of Rest, Patron of the Feast in the Land of the Dead. We Your children pray You to come in, to let Your gaze fall upon this Sacred Ground, to indwell our rite and give us Your blessing."

The woman called.

"O Black Crow! Let Your dark wings caress our souls. Enfold Your devoted in Your ageless secrets. O Mórrígane! Forge our will; inflate in us Your strength, so we can find in ourselves the power to do Your bidding.

Hear us now, Red One, Great Queen, Lady of the Reaping, Mistress of the Cauldron and Prophecy. We Your children pray that You be with us, that You look kindly upon this holy rite, that You come into our Grove and give us Your blessing. Know that our hearts swell with Your presence."

The fire flared, and the man talked to the assembly.

"Tonight, we are gathered to salute and honour our departed. The curtain between this realm and the spirit world has grown thin and fragile. We call to our Beloved Dead, the blessed Ancestors, to join our feast and receive due offering, so they never fall into oblivion. Come to the Gates, honoured ones; hear our call, we Your children who remember.

Be merry, my brothers, my sisters! For The Great Queen has taken our deceased under her protection."

Then the congregation recited as one.

"To the Elders! Happy meeting, happy farewell and happy meeting again! May the Goddess bless you!"

Suddenly, the flames were snuffed out, and the clearing was plunged into darkness. The gathering went silent, in private prayer. From his position behind the trees, he held his breath, taken by the solemnity of that silence. Then, without warning, there was a deafening crack, and the fire came back to life with a sparkling explosion. The flames were incredibly high, several feet over the tallest circle member's head. The woman spoke out, a smile upon her lips.

"And now the Dead God is reborn. And now the Crone walks with the God returned." Then, the partakers of the rite closed the circle by taking each other's hands. "This is the circle of renaissance. The seed becomes fruit, and the fruit becomes seed. This is the circle of infinity."

They let their hoods fall and shouted.

"May the Goddess bless you!"

By the clearing's border, he watched as they broke the circle. Some went to collect drinks and food; others to fetch their instrument which they started to play right away. Still, he watched as some sat to eat, but most danced on the ancient rhythm and sang in old Irish Gaelic. That's when he saw her. His dark Beauty. And she saw him. She smiled at him from across the clearing. Her tranquil angel smile. Then she murmured, but, somehow, he heard her words as if she had poured them in his ear.

"_Athblian shona duit, Ard Rí Aindreas_."

Draco woke up abruptly and sat up, panting. For an instant, he looked frantically around the room. A little confused, he'd expected to still be in a forest. Taking deep breaths, he fell back heavily onto to mattress. He lay there, his breathing a little steadier by the second. The bedroom was utterly still. A few yards away, Blaise snored lightly and rolled in his sleep.

Draco stretched his arm to seize his pocket watch from the bedside table and grabbed his wand from under his pillow. He cast a dim light and read the watch's face. 3h07. _Frigging perfect!_ He groaned. If remembering his dreams meant that he was to wake up like this every night, he would rather go without remembering. And he remembered that one, alright.

He had never in his entire life recalled a dream with so much accuracy, with so many details. To the point that it was a trifle scary. He remembered the feeling of the leaves as they brushed him while he walked. He could still feel the sponge-like sensation of the forest soil under his feet. Could still smell the scent of burning logs and incense. He could recite by heart every single word spoken in that clearing.

And of course, she had been there.

After yesterday night's dream, he had wondered about her identity. Now, he was dying to know who she was. At any rate, he now knew she was not a real person. Or wasn't anymore. Nobody respected the old rites any longer. For that was what it had been. Draco knew it even if he had never attended such rite himself. The wizarding community had long dumped the Old Ways. Nobody abided by them nowadays, and that had been the case for at least two centuries.

For hours, or so it seemed, Draco tried to find sleep, but it was useless. He kept replaying the forest scene in is mind, over and over again. And the words she had addressed to him. He had recognised Gaelic, and guessed it was probably Irish Gaelic, but did not know enough of it to catch the meaning. But he had gotten that she had called him _Aindreas_, which was an Irish surname.

While rolling around in his bed, he tried to convince himself that it was all a product of his imagination. He tried to reason with himself that his subconscious had mixed up his mysterious dream beauty and the no less mysterious Ginny Weasley in her Mórrígane attire. Unfortunately, as he thought it, he knew it was more than a little farfetched, even for his complex mind. His brain simply couldn't have imagine that unknown, though beautiful, woman talking to him in Irish Gaelic, calling him _Aindreas_, and that, during a ceremony that hadn't been perform in over two centuries.

Draco knew that dreams could possess certain signification, but it had never happened to him before. Nor had it happened to anyone he knew. This brought him back to the question he had been asking himself over the passed weeks: what the hell was happening to him?

His question still unanswered, he went back to sleep.

"Wake up and shine, Captain!"

That was Zabini's wake up call.

Draco really hated mornings. Especially early mornings. And six o'clock on a Sunday morning definitely qualified as early. Inhumanly so, in Draco's opinion. Nevertheless, he had scheduled training on the Pitch at seven o'clock, for he had found that sleep deprivation tended to make his players' ferocity scale a notch or two… or five. It also tended to reduce his patience to none, which in turn seemed to motivate them to give their captain their best.

Consequently, Draco got out of bed eyes barely opened, dragged his feet to the bathroom while yawning rudely at his roommate, splashed water on his face and got dressed. All that in his team's best interests. _Hope the buggers appreciate the sacrifice_, was his thought as he made his way to the common room with his friend.

There, by the fireplace, waited the other five team members plus two reserve players. Gregory, the other beater, was asleep, curled awkwardly on a chaise. A position that seemed almost impossible to maintain considering his size. Even so, he'd managed to fit and drool on the cushioned arm. Malcolm Baddock, the team keeper, sat silently in an armchair. Neil and Melody, the Harper twins and incidentally two of the three Slytherin's chasers, shared a love seat. The two sixth years were arguing about something insignificant, as usual. Theodore was also in a characteristic position, set apart from the group, propped up nonchalantly against the mantelpiece.

As he approached his teammates, Draco tilted his chin at Theo. The slender young man understood and leaned toward the hearth. He contacted the kitchens to ask for breakfast, since it wouldn't be served in the Great Hall for another hour at least. The house-elves being their usual efficient selves, it took about five minutes for a trolley to appear. The smell alone succeeded in pulling Greg out of his sleep. The blond Slytherin went straight for the coffee pot. _Hmm, coffee_… Life was looking up.

Draco noted that Baddock looked a little nervous and didn't meet his gaze. Maybe not so surprising considering that the fourth year was a friend of Pritchard's. Draco hoped it meant he'd made his point clear.

They ate mostly in silence, except for Neil and Melody incessant squabbles. Melody was always endlessly annoyed with her twin brother who in return always patronized his sister on the basis that he was a _whole_ ten minutes her elder. Their antagonism was the main reason Melody had decided to try out this year. Her brother, who had been on the team for two years, had gone on about how _girls_ shouldn't meddle with Quidditch… among other things. Unfortunately, that was a dominant mentality among the Magical World's elite. Draco had lived too long with strong-willed women to pay credit to such antiquated ways. Narcissia, his own mother, had Lucius, a seriously fearsome wizard, eating out of her dainty palm. And of course there was Pansy who was a formidable opponent, no matter the field. Thus, Draco hadn't been all that shocked when the sixth year girl had revealed she could play a mean game of Quidditch.

A little before seven, the Slytherin Team entered the Pitch and started to warm up under Draco's close supervision. When their captain allowed them to quit the field, it was well past noon.

Draco watched his team members make their way in the locker rooms, exhausted and sweaty, despite the cool November weather. Blaise joined him, and together they gathered the equipment back in the secured box. Fifteen minutes later, they walked in the locker rooms' direction.

Blaise finally launched, "You don't think you went a bit far today?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

"Absolutely not! If they'd worked harder, I wouldn't have kept them so long," he retorted.

"Come on! It wasn't that bad."

"When you miss one…" Draco started.

"It's one too many. I know. But did you have to keep the whole team? I mean, it was only Neil and Malcolm who gave you trouble," Blaise tried to reason with his captain.

He shook his blond head.

"You know I don't work like that. If they pull this crap again during our first match against Gryffindor next Friday, it's the whole team that will suffer. I think they should realize that _now_," he finally settled.

By his tone alone, Blaise knew the matter was closed. They arrive at the boys' locker room as the others were leaving. Neil was mumbling to himself when he spotted Draco.

"Is this how it's going to be for the rest of the season? If so, I think I'll reserve myself a bed in Pomfrey's infirmary… permanently," he whined rubbing his right shoulder.

"Don't listen to him," Melody cut in as she exited the girls' locker room. "He's just a big baby!" she added and hit Neil, quite hard at that, on the shoulder he was currently nursing. That made him hissed and her smiled.

Draco and Blaise moved past them, into the locker room. They put the box away and started to peel their sweat-soaked uniform. While doing so, Draco let his mind wander. He thought about last night's dream, about the mysterious woman, about Samhain Sabbat, about Ginevra Weasley's enigma, about how she had looked in that revealing black dress…

"Are you ok, mate?" Blaise cut in his line of thoughts. Probably a good thing, too.

"I'm alright. Why?"

"You had a funny face just now." He looked concerned. "Is it about what I said? Because you know I'm not questioning the way you train the team. I just thought you've been a bit harsh today. Especially with Neil. I know he's a whiner, but that sister of his really did pull a nasty trick on him with that feint. I thought for sure that she'd dislocate his shoulder. I'm telling you, man, that girl is mean!"

Draco chuckled.

"That, she is." Which was exactly why he has put her on the team. "But, really, it's nothing you said. You know you can criticize all you want, and I'll always do as I damn well please!" he said with a cocky smile.

It was Blaise turn to chuckle.

"Don't I know it!"

Draco looked at his friend open face. His first reflex was to keep his worries to himself. On the other hand, for some time now, he'd decided that he would stop pulling away from his friends. _It's as good a time as any to start_, he thought as he entered the shower stall next to Blaise's.

"It's the dreams. You know, our first morning back at Hogwarts, I told you about a dream I couldn't remember. I've been having those dreams ever since. It's been driving me crazy."

Blaise stayed silent a moment.

"I thought it was something like that." He paused. "We share a room, Dray. I noticed you didn't sleep well."

"Yeah, well," Draco started, a little uncomfortable. "Two nights ago, when I woke up in the morning, I remember a bit of my dream. It was the face of woman."

"Someone you know?"

"No, I've never seen her before. Anyway. Last night I had another dream and I remembered that one. In fact, I remember everything about it so well, it's eerie. When it starts, I'm walking in the forest at night. I don't know what I'm doing there, but I know I'm going somewhere. After a moment I arrive at a clearing. There's a large fire and about two dozen people gathered there. There are incenses burning. In the middle of the circle there are people. I gathered they must have been some kind of priest and priestess. And then they go through prayers to the Horned One and the Mórrígane. I'm sure what I saw in that clearing is the old rite of Samhain Sabbat, although I'm not 100% sure since I've never actually see the real thing. Well, after that they all let their hood fall, because they were all hooded, you see? That's when I saw her. The woman I remember from the night before. And she talked to me… in Irish Gaelic!"

Draco heard his friend turn off his shower. He took a minute to rinse the shampoo off his hair and exited his stall, a fluffy white towel around his hips. Blaise was getting dressed, but looked deep in thought.

"What do you think?"

Blaise looked at him.

"The fact that you're telling me all this means that you've already come to the conclusion that your dreams are no ordinary dreams." He paused, thinking. "You said they were burning incenses?" Draco acquiesced. "Can you remember what it smelled like?"

"It smelled strongly of orange and menthe," he answered after a moment.

Blaise nodded slowly.

"I think you're right. I think you really did dream of the old Samhain Sabbat." He explained. "Orange essence is often used in divination, and menthe is known to enhance psychic abilities. Those two were strongly linked to the traditional Samhain night since it's the perfect moment to contact spirits." Draco was looking at him surprised. "Don't look at me like that! I may not know a lot about the Old Ways, but I'm not Pomona's pet student for nothing! I know about plants."

Draco shouldn't have been surprised. If there was a single class Blaise cared about, it was Herbology. He himself didn't understand the liking, but his friend had always said he liked to get dirty. Go figure!

"As for the Gaelic speaking… It would be interesting to check it out in the library."

Draco nodded, he'd thought as much. Then he realised that while he was still rubbing his hair dry with a towel, Blaise was already dressed and ready to go.

"What's the rush?"

"I've got to go." He took a look at his watch. "Crap! I'm late!"

"Late for what?"

"Late to meet Pavarti in the library." He was gathering the rest of his stuff hastily.

Draco's eyes widened a bit.

"The _library_? Not exactly one of your usual date spot, is it?"

Blaise smiled wickedly.

"You don't get it. It's not a date per se. She's usually at the library around noon on Sundays. So I'm late to meet her _by coincidence_ in the library."

Draco shook his head. "I've never seen you go into so much trouble for a girl."

"Ah! That's because I've never needed to. She's one hell of a challenge that one!" He winked and dashed out of the locker room.

The remaining Slytherin turned his back to the room to collect his clothes from his locker. He kept shaking his head in disbelief. _Never thought I would see the day when Zabini was having trouble reducing a girl to a lovesick puddle_. Then he heard the room's door open. _He must have forget something in his rush_.

"If you left anything behind, I can take care of it for you. I wouldn't want to make you anymore late for your almost-date." He chortled.

"Huh. I don't know if Blaise forgot anything. And I'm not sure what an almost-date is, but I know I'm not late for one."

Draco froze. This was definitely not Blaise's voice. He turned around to face the intruder, although he already knew who he would find in the doorway.

Ginevra was walking in his direction. He couldn't help but notice the resolutely feminine swagger that was emphasized by her remarkably tight worn-out jeans. Then he recalled he wore nothing but a towel and, consequently, noticing those kinds of things was not the best course of action right now.

She stopped about a yard away from him and, slowly, took in his state of undress. She let her gaze travel over his body from head to toes. And then it went up again, lingering over his chest. A light pink flush appeared under her freckles. Draco knew his frame was nothing like Blaise's brawny one, but his lean muscles still weren't anything to be ashamed of. He suddenly was possessed with an insane urge to flex his pectorals.

He refrained.

Barely.

She finally cleared her throat and met his eyes. And served him a smile worthy of any Slytherin. A wicked smile that made him think of dark corners and illicit caresses. _You wear a towel, Malfoy!_ _Try to remember that_. When she spoke, it was with a disturbingly innocent tone considering the aforementioned wicked smile.

"I really like the towel, by the way. Thinking of making a fashion statement out of it? Because this is definitely a… fascinating side of you."

"So they keep telling me," he responded smugly.

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him.

"Pompous Slytherin!"

"Why, thank you. I'm trying."

She chuckled. He side smiled. Were they flirting? For some reason, the thought was not as alarming to Draco as it had been two months ago. He didn't get to push farther the reflection, for she sobered a bit.

"Anyway. I didn't come down here to discuss your assets, fascinating or otherwise."

"A pity. So… To what do I own the honour of you Gryffindorish presence? Here, in the boys' locker room, no less."

He was abruptly suspicious. She was a Gryffindor, although apparently fallen out of grace where the Golden Trio was concerned.

She dug into her bag and extracted a flask out of it.

"Here. Take this," she said, holding it out to him.

Draco frowned. He felt more and more distrustful. He didn't take the flagon, but simply crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"What is it?"

"It's a sleeping potion. The somniferous part of it is really very light. The main benefit of this potion is that it induces dreamless sleep. Take two or three drops of it, and your nights should become much more restful."

Draco was exasperated.

"Was it Blaise who told you I have sleep troubles?"

She looked surprised.

"No. Blaise told me no such thing. I simply have eyes. It's obvious you're exhausted. But more than that, I would have been extremely shocked if Blaise had shared something so personal about you with me. I'm a good judge of character and I'm quite sure he is one of the most trustworthy people I know." She paused, and then added with a side-smile, "Well, maybe not when it comes to a girl's virtue, that is."

Draco knew at once that his had been an unfair thought. She was right. Blaise would never go babble about it to anyone except maybe Pansy. But he was not about to admit it to her.

"Well, I don't know. You and he seemed awfully cosy with one another yesterday night. How is that?" It was true now that he thought of it.

She raised both eyebrows.

"We're partners in Herbology. Didn't he tell you that?"

No, he hadn't.

"He is the only seventh year Slytherin who picked that class this year," she started, "so he was the only one who didn't already have a partner. I asked, he accepted. We got to know each other and realised we had a lot in common, starting with a vast interest in Herbology."

Draco snorted at that. _Yeah, I'll bet you got to know each other very well_. He knew exactly how Blaise Zabini got to know any female. He found he didn't care for the thought one bit.

"Yeah, I'm sure you get along just fine," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

She blinked at him.

"Are you… jealous?"

He was quite startled by her blunt question.

"I… you think… I'm not… You've got to be kidding!"

_Alright. That comeback wouldn't convince anyone._

"Okay. If you say so," she drawled. "In any case, there's nothing, nor will there ever be anything between Blaise and myself," she settled.

Somehow, Draco found it doubtful.

"A girl unresponsive to the famous Zabini charm? Now, that would be a first." Although, he recalled, that Patil girl seems quite resistant too.

"Oh, he is almost impossibly charming, no doubt, but I know we're not meant to be together," she simply stated.

"Really? So what? You would say it's not… _fated_?" he proposed. _Let's see how she reacts to that._

Her eyes sharpened momentarily.

"Yes. You could say that," she said quietly.

"So, who's your destiny, Ginevra Weasley?" he asked derisively and then spat, "Potter?"

Ginny grunted and shook her head.

"Harry and I would never have made it on the long term, and it has nothing to do with Fate."

"No need for you to tell me why. The boy is agonizingly irritating. No one could blame you for ditching the git."

She smiled self-deprecatingly.

"I'm afraid I'm the one who's been ditched. In fact, the reason he gave for doing so is what made me realize we would never work together as a couple."

He kept looking at her expectantly. When she didn't elaborate, he sighed impatiently.

"And what would that reason be? Come on! I'm dying, here. If the Boy Wonder screwed up anything, I want to be in the know."

She laughed.

"By the Gods! You're _impossible_!" Then, she sighed. "Let's say he underestimated me greatly, and that's not something I take very well. Never have, never will. But I don't hold a grudge, even if I was pretty pissed for a time. That's just who he is."

Draco looked at her, then. Really her. Not the Gryffindor. Not the Weasel King's little sister. Not the girl who had worshiped Harry Potter for years. _Her_. Ginevra Weasley. A smart girl who was keeping up with seventh year classes. A girl with amazing chaser skills at Quidditch. A girl who would put herself on the line for the sake of those she cared for. A girl with a sturdy backbone who could cast one hell of a Bat-bogey Hex. A girl who, he'd noticed, was becoming a gorgeous woman.

"You're not the kind of person I would ever make the mistake of underestimating," he said quietly.

Her gaze met his unwaveringly. As it had happened before, he got the sensation she was reading not his mind, but his soul. A touch he could almost feel deep inside. Like the night before, the tension suddenly rose between them. Like never before, he felt that impossible force that drew him to her. His gaze flicked down to her red heart-shaped lips as she wetted them. He wanted to kiss her. Needed to. Right this instant, he couldn't think of anything better than to crush her short curvy body against his. Somehow, it was the right thing to do. This time, it was she who drew back from the moment.

She held out the vial out to him.

"Here. Take it. Please." She sounded a bit breathless.

Mechanically, he took it. She curtly nodded, turned around and bolted out of the room, leaving Draco dumbfounded, confused and painfully aroused in his white towel.


	8. Chapter 7 - Something Green

**Chapter 7 – Something Green**

On Monday, as Pansy and Draco left the Charms classroom, the young man thanked all the Gods he'd decided to try Ginny's potion. Three drops in a hot tea, and he'd had his first restful night in over two months. It wasn't until he'd spent one peaceful night that he'd realised just how tired he'd been. This morning, he'd felt so great. He hadn't even complained when Blaise had woken him by taking away his pillow from under his head. To Draco, that was saying it all.

It had also helped that he'd told Pansy about his dream, and that she'd spontaneously proposed to help research it in the library. For weeks, he'd felt helpless about his… nocturnal unrest. Now, he was rested, and he was going to actually _do_ something to appease his troubled mind. That made him feel a lot better. And much more like himself. Sitting around and waiting for things to solve themselves out tended to make him edgy.

The pair kept walking toward the dungeon. As they passed through the Entrance, they caught sight of Blaise and Ginny who were coming back from their Herbology class. And they were drawing attention. To be fair, Zabini was always drawing attention to himself. Female attention, anyway. However, this was different. The younger Weasley was laughing so hard her face had turned tomato red, and she had to wipe tears from her eyes. At some point, she even had to lean against Blaise to stay up right. Draco suspected that the only reason people didn't make a fuss over a Gryffindor and a Slytherin enjoying each other company was the she was a girl and he was… well, Blaise.

Pansy and Draco were getting closer.

"I don't believe you!" the redhead said between two difficult breaths. "You're making that up. You have to!"

"I swear on anything that is holy and not that it is the unvarnished truth. I totally froze! I didn't know what to say to her. Can you imagine being asked something like that? Of course, you can't. It's creepy, I'm telling you! I lost my composure, right then. And there was nothing that could have possibly help it. What a shame!" The young man shook his head in fake self-dejection while he snaked an arm around the young woman's waist.

Ginny was still trying hard to control her laughter… and failing miserably.

"I'm sorry. I really can't picture it. The Great Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts' Lover Extraordinaire, losing his… _composure_? I mean. You have quite a reputation when it comes to your performances… if you get my meaning," she said with a saucy leer.

"Listening to gossips, are we, Miss Weasley? Tut-tut! I'm _so_ disappointed with you," he answered with an expression that would have sit better on McGonagall's face than on the young reprobate.

"Oh, stop it!" she interjected while trying to get out of Blaise's embrace. "Sweetie, you _love_ that almost anything with a skirt whispers you name with longing in every corner of this castle."

Blaise gave a warm laugh that was answer enough.

Draco had never been jealous of Blaise's success with girls before. However, as he met with the both of them in the middle of the entrance, he couldn't help but feel like jerking the redhead away from Blaise's gasp. He itched with the need to get the other boy's hands off of the young woman. Inside of him, something deep, dark and primitive was roaring "mine, mine, MINE!"

Something must have shown on his face because, after Blaise's gaze crossed his, the dark-haired Slytherin let the arm he had warped around Ginny fall. Despite the infuriatingly knowing smile Blaise wore, Draco was grateful for the lessening of his unease.

Ginevra gradually sobered and looked at Draco pointedly. She smiled.

"I'm glad you used the potion I gave you. It seems to agree with you."

Before the Draco could respond, she was distracted by something behind him. He looked around to see Ronald Weasley frowning accusingly at his sister. He heard her sigh, so he looked back at her.

"I better go. I'll see you all later in Potions." She took her leave.

When the Gryffindor was out of sight, Pansy turned to Blaise.

"What were you telling her for her to laugh so hard?" she asked while they started toward the Dungeon.

"The Turpin's incident."

Draco cringed as he recalled what Blaise was referring to.

"I don't know how you ever managed to get it up again after that. If a girl was to ask me to personify Snape in bed, I'm sure I would be traumatized for life."

"I damn nearly was!"

"What happened to your neck?" Pansy asked, frowning, as she tugged at Blaise's unbuttoned collar. Sure enough, there were light-red scratches that went all the way around his throat.

"Oh, yeah. I had an accident in class this morning. It was really weird."

_You don't tell me! Something strange happened? Why am I not surprised?_ Draco thought ironically.

"You see, we're studying vine-like magical plants this semester. With Ginny, we're presently growing a Venomous Tentacula. Its parts are very useful, but it is also extremely dangerous. I still can't believe Professor Sprout entrusted us with a 2nd class plant!"

He was starting to get excited about that last bit, but then he shook his head.

"Anyway. Since our Tentacula is still just a baby, I let myself get distracted, and I must have rub it the wrong way because it abruptly reached for my throat. No matter what I did, I couldn't make it drop. You wouldn't believe how strong those things are. Of course, ours is not full grown, but… Did you know a mature Venomous Tentacula's constriction potential is comparable to a regal python's?"

He was getting excited again.

"Anyway. Fortunately, Ginny hadn't gone far. That's where it becomes weird. She didn't even break a sweat. She was there in an instant, perfectly calm. She just put her hands on the thing, and then she mumbled something I couldn't understand. The plant simply let go of my throat and went still."

Both Pansy's and Draco's eyes widened a bit and Blaise looked like he still couldn't believe it. Draco didn't blame him. It was quite extraordinary. For a wizard or a witch to have the Green Hand was even more exceptional than to have the Sight. He hadn't even heard of a living wizard having the Green Gift. It was said that there had been a time when born tree-talker had arisen far more frequently. But it went back to the time when the Worship of the Goddess was still alive and healthy, centuries ago. In any case, Draco was curious. From what he'd read, the Green Hand, like the Sight, was known to emerge at puberty, around eleven or twelve. Wouldn't they have heard of it had Ginny Weasley discovered she possessed such an exceptional gift five years ago?

Draco was brought back to earth when Pansy asked for something he was interested in hearing.

"You didn't ask her about it?"

Blaise gave her a 'duh' glare.

"Of course, I asked about it! What do you think I am? Some moronic Hufflepuff?"

Pansy raised an elegant eyebrow. "Could have fooled me."

"I did question her. Unfortunately, the Weasley girl seems to be even more guarded than you, Dray. And you know I'm the best at getting what I want out of anything with a skirt."

Draco snorted.

"You didn't do much progress with Pavarti, did you, _sweetie_? Since when have you been _sweetie_ to the Little Red and Gold, anyway?" he teased, but underneath his playful tone was an uneasy feeling. An uneasy feeling that possessed a greenish quality, but was _not_ jealousy. Of course not. That would be preposterous.

"It's nothing like that, mate. Not that I haven't try," he added with a lecherous smile. "To me, Ginny is like Pansy. She's just so easy to be around. She's never offended with my devious humour, she even plays along with it." Then he slid a glance at their trio's female. "Okay. Maybe she's nothing like Pansy, after all. But you know what I mean. I can throw as much sexual innuendo as I please at her since we both know it won't lead anywhere."

Draco decided to let it go. He really didn't want to expose his inexplicably growing feelings for the younger Weasley.

Just as they went to put away their books before lunch, he turned to his friends and said "Do we go straight to the library after Potions?"

Blaise acquiesced, while Pansy looked thoughtful.

"I've been thinking… Maybe we could ask Ginevra for the translation. It would save us a lot of trouble."

Draco and Blaise shared a confused look.

"Why, her?" the last asked.

"Well, I'm not a hundred percent sure she talks Irish Gaelic, but the Prewett family, on her mother's side, is originally from Ireland."

Draco frowned.

"Prewett isn't an Irish surname."

"No, it isn't. They were named Ò Cathasaigh back then. When they migrated, it was changed for Prewett, a name that has the same meaning but sounds more English."

The boys didn't hide their surprise.

"And how come you know about that?"

Pansy rolled her eyes in disgust.

"My dear mother's latest obsession. 'A well-bred Lady should always know everything about everyone. It's the surest way to avoid any social misstep'" she recited with pretty realistic impersonation of Victoria Parkinson. "Last summer, she made me memorise _everything_ worth knowing about all prominent wizarding families. You wouldn't _believe_ what she considers worth knowing."

"And she made you learn about the _Weasleys_?" Blaise asked incredulously.

Pansy shrugged.

"They are pure-blood _and_ an old family."

"What makes you think her family would still speak the language?" Draco wasn't too happy with the idea of asking Ginny for help.

"You speak French, even if your father's family left France over two centuries ago," she pointed out.

He had to concede her that. His parents had ingrained in him very early in his life the importance of roots. Welsh, on his mother's side, and French on his father's. When he was a kid, they often went on vacations to one the French estates owned by his family in le midi. He had very fond memories of those carefree days.

Draco stayed pretty much silent throughout lunch time. He was both eager to collect any information that could help him understand his dreams and apprehensive about having to ask Ginny for help. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of sharing any part of his dreams with her. He might be attracted to the little pixie, but he didn't really know her. While he was starting to appreciate many facets of her personality, she still was a Gryffindor and a Weasley. The combination didn't make her trustworthy as far as Draco was concerned. And his dream felt too personal, even intimate. He would ask her if she could translate the phrase and nothing else, he decided. She didn't need to know.

That was his thought as the three of them walked into the Potions classroom. The room was empty except for Ginevra who was already there, which was surprising since they had made it early themselves. She hadn't had lunch in the Great Hall, either, Draco had noticed. In any case, her earliness was a happy happenstance. That way, they wouldn't have to worry about being overheard.

As they approached and dropped into their respective seats, Ginny raised her head. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen. She'd been crying. Her eyes were dry now, but it was obvious they hadn't been a moment ago. The Slytherins exchanged an uncomfortable look. They didn't feel in their element with such outward show of emotion. In their world, you learn very early to perfect your poker face. His, and Pansy's, was a mask of cold arrogance, although he had to admit it wasn't all pretence. He would rather call it self-assurance, but, hey! To each his opinion. As for Blaise, he had always used shallow playfulness as a shield. When you don't expect any depth, you're not looking for it.

Anyhow, Draco faced the young woman who, in spite of her altogether five feet two, had looked imperial in her personification of the Great Goddess, a mere two days ago. Now, while she was visibly trying to put up a steady front, he felt her sorrow as clearly as if it were his own. That, in itself, was unsettling to Draco. He knew he wasn't an extremely empathic person, except to a handful of people. Still, the force with which he felt her pain was shocking. He could almost feel it physically.

"Hey, guys," she greeted them in an effort to sound composed. That was ok with the Slytherins who weren't ones to pry for you to share your feelings. They all responded with a tilt of their chin.

"We're glad you're here early. There's something we wanted to ask you," he said right away trying to shake off his unwelcome feelings.

That seemed to effectively distract her from any problem she might have. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"You wanted to ask _me_ about something?"

Ignoring her obvious amazement, he went on.

"You wouldn't happen to speak Irish Gaelic, would you?"

The look on her face was quite comical. He'd definitely taken her by surprise with his question.

After a bit of gapping on her part, she answered "Why, yes. I do, as a matter of fact. However, it may be a bit rusty since I don't get many occasions to speak it. May I ask why you would want to know?"

"I came across a bit of Irish Gaelic and wanted to know what it meant."

She just looked at him for a moment, and he thought she would question about how he'd came across Irish Gaelic. She did not.

"Okay. So, what is this bit of Irish?"

Draco searched his memory before he answered to make sure he had the right words.

"_Athblian shona duit, Ard Rí_," he recited, carefully living out the name.

Then she murmured under her breath, lips barely moving, like she was repeating the words for herself. Then she froze, and stared at him strangely, intensely.

Her voice soft, she said "It means 'Happy new year to you, High King'."

From the corner of his eye, he saw his friends' eyes turned to him, probably searching his face for a reaction. He gave none. His gaze lost in empty space, his brain was spinning furiously. The 'happy new year' part was easy. He knew that Samhain was considered the first day of the year in Celtic cultures. But High King _Aindreas_… He couldn't remember much about High Kings. That would require a bit of research. That conclusion made, he turned to Ginny again. The girl was still eyeing him strangely.

Slowly, she started "I'm curious. Where did you…", but she heard her name called.

The four heads turned as one toward the voice's owner, namely Hermione Granger. The girl walked in their direction, but stopped at a good distance. Draco fought the urge to chuckle. _And they call themselves brave_, he thought. Potter was not far behind, and with such a stubborn look on his face that the picture of a sulky three year old toddler dragged about by his mother came to Draco's mind.

The mudblood ignored the three Slytherins haughtily, looking solely at Ginevra. The urge to laugh became even more insistent. _Dear Lords, the lots of them are pathetic_.

"We would like to have a word with you, Ginny. We need to discuss _things_," the bushy-haired girl clearly implied she wanted to discuss those _things_ without the Slytherins present.

At his side, Draco felt Ginny tense imperceptibly. By all appearances, she looked collected, but from where he stood, he could recognize the sudden tension in her stance. The slight irritation in her sigh, however, was very much audible.

"I would _love_ to discuss _things_ with you, but, you see, a discussion is supposed to consist of two people exchanging ideas. I'm afraid you're not interested in listening to what I have to say."

The Head Girl rolled her eye impatiently. Her glance slide shortly over the Slytherin trio. She obviously didn't like that they were witnessing the argument.

"Don't be silly! Of course we listen to what you say. We respect your opinion, but you should realise…"

"Stop, Hermione! You hear my words, but you are not _listening_ to anything I say! And you know what? I'm done trying to explain myself to you lots when I shouldn't have to."

Then, Potter visibly lost patience and went to intervene, but people started to entered the room and he decided against it.

"We're not done talking about it, Ginny."

She met his green eyes unwaveringly.

"Yes, we most definitely are, Harry," she replied firmly.

Before Sir I-Can't-Get-Clue could insist any more, Professor Slughorn made his entrée with his usual cheerful "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!" With a last obstinate look, Potter turned around and followed after Granger.

"I can't stand those losers," Pansy blurted. "What's their problem? Aside from being their usual Gryffindish pain in the arse, that is."

That succeeded in making the corner of her mouth tug, but it didn't last. Ginny didn't let out a word for the duration of the class. Draco's eyes kept drifting back to her. Her narrow shoulders stayed stiff throughout the lesson. Every bit of body language she gave off said she was simultaneously angry, frustrated and sad. Unable to hide it inside, she let it out on the poor asphodel's roots that she chopped with a disturbing enthusiasm. Once her and Pansy's potion was done, she wasted no time, gathered her things and mumbled her farewell before she practically ran through the door. _She probably wants a head start on her two stalkers_, Draco thought as he vialed his own sample.

Blaise and Pansy left, but he waited for the rest of the class to go, so he could have a word with his Head of House. Unfortunately, it seemed Theodor had the same idea because he wasn't leaving either. They were both waiting for the other to state his case to the Potions Master. Ultimately, Theo motioned him to the sitting teacher with a side smile.

"Be my guest, Captain."

Draco shrugged, a bit irritated with his chaser, but told himself it didn't matter if he heard it since it would pretty much be public knowledge in less than a week. He turned to Professor Slughorn who was eyeing them expectantly.

"Professor, I want to take the special defence class. I just thought I'd let you know."

Theo took a step forward.

"That's why I stayed behind as well. I want to take it too."

Draco raised a curious eyebrow at that. Slughorn smiled up at them.

"Duly noted, gentlemen."

They went to take their leave, but the Professor called back.

"Mr Malfoy?" Draco looked back. "I would like a word with you in my office."

He nodded and followed the shorter man in the adjacent room. Slughorn motioned him to a chair in front of his desk while he took place behind it. Draco was curious as to what he wanted to talk about. Then he thought about Dumbledore's death and inwardly winced. It would be just like Slughorn to be after exclusive information. Draco had no intention to go through it again. To live it and then experience it again night after night in nightmares had been enough, thank you very much.

The old Slytherin stayed silent a moment before he started talking.

"I owe you an apology."

Draco's eyebrows went incredibly high. _An apology? What the…_

The teacher misread his student.

"I know, I know. I should have done this much sooner, but, to be honest, I was unsure how to go about it." He shook his head self-deprecatingly. "You see, last year, I didn't know of your circumstances. Had I known about your dire predicament… well, I would have been more understanding, of course. As it were, all I knew was that you were… that your father… It wouldn't have been proper for me to…"

_Be seen with the son of a fugitive Death Eater_, Draco finished for him in his head.

"Well, I can't tell you how guilty I feel for not realizing. As they say, you found yourself between the devil and the deep blue sea. That's why I insisted that you be allowed back at Hogwarts. The least I could do was to give you a chance to finish your schooling." He shook his head again. "I'm afraid I haven't been very supportive as your Head of House. Such dreadful events…" He rubbed his imposing silvery moustache distractedly. "Dreadful, but inevitable, as you know."

Draco froze. What was the man talking about? What had been inevitable?

"Inevitable, sir?" He knew his confusion was clearly drawn on his features.

Slughorn looked puzzled. And then stunned. And then disturbed.

"You mean to tell me that nobody explained anything to you?" Now he sounded indignant. "Dear Heavens above! But I thought someone would…" he stopped. "Of course. Who could have?" he murmured more for himself. He looked back at his pupil. "My dear boy, the Headmaster Dumbledore was _dying_. There was no way around it. Before his… demise, he had been on a quest that had put him in contact with an utterly corrupted magical item. Its manipulation was tricky, and it backfired. That corruption was slowly but surely poisoning him. He was dying, and he knew it."

Draco was trying to get that in, but his professor wasn't finished.

"And, naturally, since Severus had been helping to treat the curse, he knew about its deadliness. That's why he accepted to take your mother's Unbreakable Vow. And Albus knew about the vow, of course. They both thought you had a great potential that should be focussed on a healthier purpose. It was decided that Severus was to look over you and prevent you from doing anything that would… scar you irreversibly."

_Holy. Fucking. Shit._

Draco's heart was pounding painfully. He simply couldn't digest what he was hearing. He'd known about the Unbreakable Vow. His mother had told him about it when he'd gone back home last June. He hadn't been overly surprised about Narcissia's drastic measures. He knew his mother would walk through the fires of hell for her child's safety. But Severus… He'd been so certain the Professor Snape was part of Voldemort's cohort. So the old Potions Master was not a good little Death Eater after all? He was… what? A spy?

_Holy. Fucking. Shit._

And what about Dumbledore? The old Headmaster had been on the edge of death already? So what? What did it change, really? It changed nothing to what he had done, what he schemed on doing. If anything, it made him feel even worst. Albus Dumbledore had died at the hands Snape so Draco wouldn't have to live with that death on his conscience. Too bad his conscience didn't work that way. Who was he to deserve such sacrifice? Dumbledore had been the greatest wizard of his time. So many things and people had depended on him. So what if he had been dying anyway? Surely he would have had a couple of months left. Hell! Even a week of that man's life was too high a price for his peace of mind. He'd just been a blind kid. A stupid one at that. Hardly worthy of any devotion.

Mechanically, Draco got up. Slughorn might have said something then, but he was in no condition to hear it. He got out of his Head of House's office and made his way toward Slytherin's common room like in a dream. He felt numb, disconnected from reality. Along the corridors, he looked at the students who passed him by. How could they not feel the alteration in reality when all of his universe had just shifted? They looked all so light-hearted. Unaware. Innocent. Things he suspected he would never be again.

Draco entered the empty common room. He had a second of wondering why before he remembered that dinner was served in the Great Hall. He crumbled heavily in the nearest seat.

He sat there, his brain lost in a strange haze, for an undetermined among of time before he heard the common room's entrance door open and saw his friends come in. One look at his face, and they dragged him to his and Blaise's room. Once there, he went straight to his bed and let himself fall on the bedspread. He felt them sit on the bed next to him. They didn't say a word. He knew they wouldn't. They would wait for him to do this his way.

So he started talking.

His gaze fixed to the ceiling of the four poster bed, he talked like he hadn't for over a year. He told them how, after his father's breakout from Azkaban, he'd been summoned in front of the Dark Lord. How he'd been told that he was to pay for his father messing up the operation in the ministry. He told them of his fright for his parents' life and his own. He recalled out loud what he'd been through during their sixth year. His different attempts on the Headmaster's life. His work to infiltrate Death Eaters in the school. He told them of his misjudgement of Snape's intentions. Then he went through the tale of what had happened in the tower the night of Dumbledore's death. After that came the confrontation with his father the previous summer. He told his friends how, blinded by his own bitter shame, he'd lashed out at a man he'd loved and admired all his life. Eventually, he finished with what he'd learned less than an hour ago about Dumbledore illness and Severus unexpected allegiance.

The room fell silent. They didn't offer comforting babbles, and Draco was glad they didn't. After a minute or so, Pansy let out a sad sigh. She looked down at him.

"You know you should have talked to us a lot sooner, right?"

Draco didn't bother responding. Yes, he knew. And she knew he did.

"Well. That's fucked up," Blaise sighed. "But it doesn't change anything now, does it? It doesn't change what happened, and it doesn't change your present situation." He paused. "Although, that might mean you're now part of the infamous Slug Club!" He playfully hit Draco on his leg.

The blond Slytherin couldn't help but smile slightly in spite of his dark mood. That was one of Blaise's gifts after all.

"He's right, you know. It doesn't change a thing. Besides, we have some research to undergo tonight. I say we go snatch you something to eat, now."

Draco smiled frankly at her. It was so much like Pansy to go all business on them. At any rate, they were both right. He had enough on his plate right now and didn't need to fuss over things that were already passed and done.

Later that night, the three Slytherins were in the library, haunting the aisles in search of a book that would give them any hint of who High King _Aindreas_ was. Easier said than done. It had seemed quite simple at first. One would think that a person with the title 'High King' would appear somewhere in a general Irish history book. It didn't take them too long to realise their mistake.

The title of High King was a very, very old one in Ireland. So old, in fact, that the list went back to mythical times, in the second millennium BC. Also, the High King was not exactly a political figure. He didn't rule over Ireland. He was chosen among the rulers of the numerous Irish kingdoms and possessed more of a sacred role of unifier, especially in dire times. Such occasions often led the High King to become a warlord.

Since High Kings had existed for so long, their number was countless. It made it extremely difficult, nearly impossible, to find a single inventory of all of them. Even worst, Draco couldn't narrow the time interval of their search, for, in his dream, people had been wearing hooded cloak which didn't help to pinpoint the period they belong to. Furthermore, the fact that High Kings did not own political power and that many had not played a great role historically made them hard to find in general history books.

Thus, when the curfew came they still hadn't found anything useful about a High King named _Aindreas_. Blaise and Pansy insisted that they had all the time in the world to rake through the library. Draco knew it was their way of cheering him up, of telling him not to get discouraged. There was no need. He was resolute about understanding what his vision had been, to know what it meant. His determination, when settled, was bone-deep and steel-strong. He was not giving up anytime soon.


	9. Chapter 8 - To Distraction

**Chapter 08 – To Distraction**

As the days went by, one thing became clear to Draco: he was obsessed. Obsessed with Ginevra Weasley.

Now that he was using the sleeping potion she'd brewed for him, he had nice long restful dreamless nights. That was a good thing since he really needed the respite. However, he was beginning to wonder if his mind wasn't starting to find an outlet elsewhere, because, more and more, he found himself _day_dreaming. About _her_. That was a very peculiar phenomenon for the young Malfoy as he'd never been prone to daydream. Especially since his sixth year. On many occasions, his very survival had depended on his ability to stay perfectly aware of his surroundings.

But now… Just looking at her was sufficient for his imagination to wander. And it wandered on confusing paths.

Some were actually very innocent. The other morning, in the Great Hall, Ginny had been absentmindedly poking at her breakfast with her fork, looking worried. At once, Draco had imagined himself going to her and ask what was wrong. Then, she would have revealed to him what weighed on her mind, and he would have told her that everything would be alright, that he would help anyway he could. Then, of course, she would have leaned on him, and he would have held her in the circle of his arms. Maybe he would have stroke her back, soothe her… etc, etc, etc. In that moment, he'd just felt like sharing that kind of intimacy with her would be most natural thing. His contemplation would have gone on if it weren't for Melody Harper who had interrupted his reverie with a question about Friday's big match against Gryffindor.

Naturally, his daydreams weren't all so honorable. A couple were in fact rather lascivious. And if he were to be completely honest, he would admit those were by far the more frequent. Like the one he had in the middle of Potion class, on Thursday morning. The day's assignment had required a very high temperature which meant that, regardless of the usual coolness of the dungeon, the classroom had been very, _very_ hot. Everyone had discarded their school robe. He'd had to constantly keep the sweat from getting in his eyes. His shirt was uncomfortably stuck to his skin and his hair to his forehead. That, however, hadn't prevented him from eyeing the redhead in front of him.

Her dark blue v-neck t-shirt had attached itself to her body, which was attention-seeking enough as it were, but it wasn't what had snatched his notice. Because of the heat, she'd pulled her red mane up high in a messy bun in a way that would leave her nape bare. On the back of her neck was a fascinating constellation of freckles. How he could ever have considered freckles unattractive, he had no idea. Her skin was like ivory dusted with copper. Right then, he'd had an unbearable impulse to play connect the dots with his tongue. To draw her near and find out if she was freckled all over.

Just as he had been running in his head all the delectable patterns his mouth could trace over her body, she'd turned toward his and Blaise's table to ask if they'd had any Graphorn's horn powder left. Her sudden movement had begun a dangerous chain reaction. Her abrupt shift had made a drop of sweat roll from her temple, to the side of her neck, and down her throat before it'd lingered by the hollow between her clavicles and disappeared between her breasts, caressing the upper swell of those glorious mounds on its way down. The sight had had him shuddering violently. And, Good Lords! If it hadn't given him the sharpest erection known to mankind, his name wasn't Draco Lucius Malfoy.

The desire that had swelled inside of him had been so sudden and overwhelming that he'd felt a little dizzy. What was particularly confusing to him was that there was something familiar about his feelings for the curvy redhead. But it shouldn't feel familiar. Right? When he'd abruptly imagined laying her down on the table and tearing her clothes off her body, it shouldn't have felt like he'd done it before. And, more confusing still, he saw the way her pupils had dilated, the way her breath had caught in her throat, the way she'd shivered despite the current burning temperature in the dungeons. As if… As if she'd felt it too. As if she'd read these images straight from his brain. Scary thought that.

That was why, a few hours later, he found himself alone in one of the study rooms of the library, trying very hard to drown his desire in Transfiguration study. However, at the moment, he had the hardest time concentrating on 'how to morph body parts into inanimate objects'. He got up, deciding to resume his investigation about High King _Aindreas_ instead. The subject might be more successful in keeping his mind off Ginevra Weasley. Wandering among the aisles, he tried to focus on his mysterious vision, but the little red pixie kept worming her way into his thoughts in spite of his best efforts. Maybe she'd drugged him. Maybe that was the potion's side effect.

Or maybe he was going nuts.

He was there in his reflection when a female voice whispered in his ear, "Hello, there, gorgeous."

He turned his head to see Rachel Lindley leaning back against the shelves. He had been so deeply troubled that he hadn't even heard her sneaking up on him. _Father would be so disappointed_, he thought wryly. Rachel was as stunning as ever. Five foot ten inches of impeccable elegance, most of it in legs. She was currently pouting in a manner she wanted seductive, he suspected. He'd never liked pouting girls, he found the habit irritating.

"Rachel," he saluted with a gentle nod.

She pushed herself off from the shelves and swayed her way toward him.

"Where have you been for the last two months? I'm starting to think you forgot about me. And I have to admit I'm feeling awfully neglected, Draco. After all the _fun_ we had last year… So tell me. Is that it? Have you forgotten me?" she murmured while she soothed the lapels of his robe with deliberate, slow strokes on his chest.

Yes. He had forgotten about her. Completely. In fact, he'd scarcely even acknowledged the girl since their encounter on the Hogwarts Express. He considered her an instant. Maybe she was exactly what he needed. Maybe a good lay was all his body and mind required. He was an almost eighteen years old young man, wasn't he? She was right: he'd been unforgivably negligent… of his own needs. That decision taken, he smoothly switched to seduction mode, although he hardly needed to seduce this one. A wicked smile drew itself on his face.

"Of course not, love. I've simply been very busy. You know, the seventh year is a pain. I've been terribly strained these past weeks." Draco paused before he went for a direct invitation. "Tell you what. Why don't we find a quiet place so you can help me let out some tension and I can show you I have not forgotten you?"

Her conniving smile was answer enough. Without a word, he led her to his cramped study room. He gently pushed her inside and turned to lock the door and cast a silencing spell on it. When he went back to her, her school robe had already dropped on the floor and she was hopping herself up on the desk. He couldn't miss the calculating glow in her pale blue eyes. He knew she was after his money, but since he was solely after her body, in his book, that made them even. He discarded his own robe on the chair and went to stand in front of her.

"I've missed…" she started.

He didn't want to hear her lies. Gripping the back of her knees, he swiftly pulled her to the table edge where he settled between her thighs. Then, he shut her up with a bruising kiss.

In a matter of seconds, her panties were on the floor and her uniform was open, exposing her small pale breasts. In a matter of minutes, he was buried inside of her, trying not to think of anything but the carnal pleasure her body was giving his. He stared at her face as he was thrusting between her creamy thighs but had to look away. All he could see in her eyes was cold scheming. So he hid his face in the crook of her neck instead, wanting her to just be a body he could lose himself into.

About half an hour later, he was straightening his clothes, clothes he hadn't even bothered removing, and left a dazzled Rachel to her endorphin high.

To say that the interlude hadn't had the intended result was an understatement of epic proportions. He now felt even more crazed. _Why is this happening to me? _he complained inwardly.

Why, in the heat of things with a splendid female specimen, had he wondered what it would feel like if the hands clutching at the muscles of his back weren't long and manicured, but small and softened with use? What it would be like if the legs wrapped around his waist weren't endless and slender, but short and shapely? How pleasant would it be if the breasts he was fondling weren't small and pale, but generous and sprinkled with freckles? What it would feel like if it weren't straight black hair, but red wavy locks he was burying his face into when he came?

He'd had those thoughts and many more. But what disturbed Draco further was that it was precisely thanks to those thoughts that he'd finally reached his release. It was only by picturing his short fiery pixie that he'd gone over that pleasurable edge.

_Why?_ He kept asking himself.

He was going insane.

Around two the next afternoon, Draco was flying high on his Thunderbolt. He kept track of his team's progress while inspecting the field for the Snitch. They could complain about his coaching methods all they wanted. The results were plain to see. An hour into the match, the Slytherins were way ahead of the Gryffindors on the scoreboard and that in spite of the new Gryffindor beaters. They were efficient bastards and had made Draco grind his teeth more than once. However, one of their chasers was also a new addition, and he seemed rather clumsy.

The Harper twins had a wager among themselves on who would get the highest score. Again, Draco congratulated himself on his taking Melody on the team; Neil played even better now that he was in competition with his sister. As for Theo, it never ceased to amaze him to see the lanky Slytherin play. The young man always looked so reserved and scholarly when he was off the field that you would never imagine he could be so proficient on a broom. Draco had no complaint about Malcolm, either. The boy guarded his hoops like his life depended on it. He suspected the fourth year of being terrified of his captain's wrath should he mess the game up.

_Works with me_, Draco thought.

The Slytherin keeper had only let one Quaffle in. And it had been one of Ginny's shots. He had to admit she was magnificent on a broom. And it wasn't even a good broom. He would like to see her on a Thunderbolt, or even just on a Firebolt. _Or naked in my bed_…

"Put your mind back on the game, Malfoy," he growled to himself wiping the rain from his eyes for the nth time.

It had started raining half an hour ago. Now, it had turned into a serious downpour. At least, they were all suffering from it equally. But it made it damn hard to spot the Snitch since it seriously reduced his vision. He was still whining to himself about the crappy weather when he caught sight of something from the corner of his eye.

About fifty yards away, Ginny, the Quaffle under her arm, was inching her way through Slytherin's defence.

_Damn!_ he thought. _She's going to score again!_

However, she was so busy keeping an eye on Blaise that she didn't see the Bludger coming from Greg. Draco froze, and so did his heart. He saw it happen as if it were in slow motion. The jet-black iron ball flew straight at her. She turned her head in its direction, probably hearing it coming. But it was too late. The dark ball hit her on the back of the shoulder. It hit hard. Due to the rain, she lost her grip and was knocked off her broom.

And she fell.

The information hadn't yet reached the conscious part of his brain that he was diving at physic-defying speed in her direction. The rain was whipping his face painfully and the drop in altitude was compressing his eardrums. Regardless of his speed, he knew there was no time for a smooth catch. He let go of his broomstick and intercepted her in mid-fall, enfolding her in his arms. The collision was violent, knocking him off his broom too.

And they went down. Together, they went rolling on the ground. Fortunately, the torrential rain provided a substantial mud cushion to absorb their fall.

And then, they stopped rolling.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They were both breathing hard. Slowly, Draco went on his forearms to look down at his catch who was presently pinned under his much larger body. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. They laid there, eyes locked and soaking wet, for what seemed like eternity. He'd imagine getting her petite body against his own but nothing compared to reality. She fitted. There was no other way to describe it. She just fitted. Instinctively, his hand went to her face. He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Her skin unbelievably soft. Draco couldn't help himself; he started to lean forward. For weeks, he'd wanted to do this and now he was going to. The rest of the world could go to hell.

Of course, in his state of mind, he wasn't counting on the horde that would be rushing to them by now.

"Get off her, Malfoy," Potter's accusing tone came from a few yards away.

Not moving right away, they both reluctantly turned they eyes toward the intruder. _Most rude_, Draco thought wryly, _we were having a moment here_. But evidently, nobody would accuse Pothead of having manners. Unenthusiastically, he got on his feet and held out his hand to her. Potter shoved it away.

"_My_ team doesn't need you!" he growled while he pulled her up.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, get a grip! He just saved freaking my life a _second_ ago!" she shouted, tugging her hand from his grasp.

"What's wrong, Potter? Afraid I'll take your part as the Ultimate Tragic Hero?" Draco snarled.

"You? A Hero? Please! More like the Ultimate Evil," he replied.

They were getting an audience. The members of both teams, plus Pomfrey and Hooch, had formed a circle around the three of them.

_Alright_, he thought, _I want out of here._

He looked at Madam Hooch.

"Can we resume the match, now?"

"As soon as Poppy is finished examining you," the yellow-eyed teacher stated.

"I'm alright," he said when the school nurse look inquisitively at him. "Just a little bruised."

Accepting his answer with a nod, she turned to Ginny. Poppy made her loosen her uniform so she could look at her shoulder. Everybody on that side of the circle hissed in sympathy. Draco leaned to look at it more closely.

"That's… hmm… colourful," He said softly so just she could hear. "But you do realise that as _red_ as it is at the moment, those things always turn _green_ in the end, right?"

She looked at him over her shoulder, smiled and chuckled a little. He smiled back. Then, he sensed her tense. He looked up to see her brother, a few yard away, nervously tangling his fingers. After a moment of hesitation, Ronald approached to check on his sister. He looked concerned and, Draco noticed, a tad guilty.

"Is she going to be ok?" he asked looking at the nurse.

Poppy smiled up at the tall redhead.

"Yes, Mr Weasley. She got herself an impressive bruise, but that's all." She patted his arm affectionately.

He turned to his sister, and, again, that mix of concern and guilt was all over his face. He also looked like he was searching for words.

Ginny stopped him by raising her hand.

"It's alright, Ron."

He shook his head.

"No. No, it's not." He pulled her in giant hug. The sight was somewhat comical since he was over a foot taller than his sister. "You scared me to death, Gin," he mumbled in her hair. "I saw you fall and I kept thinking… I thought…" He sighed heavily and pulled away to catch her gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll stop being such a stubborn idiot." That made her laugh, but she had tears in her eyes.

Draco was pretty sure the Gryffindor keeper had all but forgotten his presence, or he probably wouldn't have poured his heart out to his sister. Just as the thought went through his mind, the said keeper's eyes fell on him and he scowled.

_Here we go_, the blond seeker sighed, _let's all play 'bash the Slytherin'_.

Ronald let go off his sister and turned to him, looking strangely solemn.

"That… hmm… that was pretty… decent of you." He rubbed the back of neck nervously. "Thanks, Malfoy."

Draco was so stunned, he wasn't positive he'd understood it right. He'd been ready for being told to go to hell, but gratitude took him unprepared. That's when he realised he now was the one who was rubbing his neck nervously. He stopped abruptly. Not fast enough though, for Ginevra was looking at him with laughing eyes. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well… whatever. If nobody's dead, maybe we could go back the game now. The weather is perfect," he gestured at the heavy rain and turned to the rest of his team with a smug smirk, "and we had a good arse kicking going on, right?"

The Slytherins cheered at his words. At Madam Hooch's approval, the players kicked their brooms up. On his way up above the field, Theodore flew to his side.

"Why did you go after her? She's their best chaser. We could have done without her," he stated with his customary rational tone.

Draco thought fast.

"Just think a second. If a player was to be seriously injured, Hooch would have forced us to report the match to a later date. With the kind of score our team has at the moment? I don't think so!"

Theo looked unconvinced.

Well, just too bad because that was all he would get. Draco sped up to take his position for the face-off. The balls were thrown in the air again and they resumed the match.

Another hour later, the wind had picked up, and the players were flying in a full-fledged rainstorm. During the last time-out, Draco had made his whole team cast warming spells on their clothes but they were still wet and horribly uncomfortable. High above the ground, his eyes roamed over the pitch intently. He was concentrating so hard on finding the Snitch that he was having hallucinations of the damned ball. A few yards below, Slytherins were doing well, but the gap between the scores was still under 150, so nothing was won yet.

He was starting to despair when something made him paused. An odd feeling swept over him. Like an intuition or instinct, except it was… more. A tickle on nape of his neck. He couldn't explain the sensation, but, at once, he knew he should be looking for the Golden Snitch near the far corner of the pitch, on Slytherin's hoops side. Acting on the impulse, he wiped the rain from his face a last time before he flew toward that corner.

With each second, that itching stir grew stronger. It was almost like a voice whispering in his head. Telling him where he would find it. But he pushed the ridiculous thought aside. _It must be the wind,_ he told himself. Yet, that murmur guided him all the way to the other side of the pitch. It was still there, on the back of his mind, as he looked over the field for the small ball. It was with him still when he finally spotted the sparkling orb and sank for the catch. And when, at last, his hand closed around the jumpy sphere, that gentle murmur exploded in a thousand tinkles. Like an irrepressible victorious laughter, light and joyful.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was peeling his soaked uniform in the locker room. The rest of the team was bragging loudly about their victory. Each and everyone had their bit of sportive exploit to boast about. From time to time, one would come up and give him a vigorous clap with a smiling "Well done, Captain!" He gave them the smug smile they expected, but, in his mind, he was still trying to explain what had happened on the pitch. And couldn't quite find a satisfying answer.

_Another mystery_, he sighed, _just what I needed_.

The others were leaving for the castle when he entered a shower stall. As he turned on the water, there was a knock.

"Dray?" It was Blaise. "We're going to celebrate in the common room. Want me to wait for you?" he asked from the other side of the door.

"No, go ahead. I'll be right along." He heard his friends exit.

He adjusted the water heat to scotching hot and exhaled deeply in contentment as the hot stream soothed his strained muscles. Then, he looked down at himself and grimace at his state. His recent mud bath with the Gryffindor pixie had left him encrusted with dirt. _Better start scrubbing_, he grunted. When he got out twenty minutes later, his skin was red from his energetic cleaning, but he felt much better. He got dressed hurriedly, caught his bag and went out of the room. And he halted.

It had stopped raining. The sky was still gray, but it was a lighter softer shade of grey, and if you looked at the horizon, you could see it would clear out soon. What had made him pause, however, was the person waiting for him outside the locker room.

Ginny was leaning on the wall, hands in her jeans' pockets. She smiled up at him as he took in her presence. He couldn't repress a smile as he notices her skin was fairly red too. _Guess I'm not the only one who had some scrubbing to do_. She approached nonchalantly.

"Congratulation, Mr Malfoy. Slytherin's team played a very good match."

Draco smiled smugly.

"You know what they say. A team is the reflection of its leadership."

He waited for her to tell him off, but she didn't. The redhead simply nodded, like he'd just said some deep words of wisdom.

"That's very true." Then she shook herself out of that strange solemnity. She smiled again. "I realised I hadn't even thank you for saving me. And since my mother taught me better…"

She closed the distance between them and posed her palms on his chest for balance while she went on the very tip of her toes. And then she kissed him. It was light, and soft, and sweet. And totally unexpected. That kiss was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. And it was far too quick.

"Thank you," she murmured against his lips, her sweet breath mingling with his. Then, she took her hands from him and he instantly missed the touch. Draco barely restrained himself from grabbing her, just so he could feel her hands on is body a while longer.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of something he couldn't quite decipher.

"You better be on your way now. I bet your troops are waiting for their captain to start the celebration."

She offered him a last gentle smile and walked away.


End file.
